


Port, Whiskey and Moonshine

by Eryiss



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Big Bang Challenge, Found Family, Gangster Freed Justine, Gangster Laxus Dreyar, Happy Ending, Illegal activity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Musician Freed Justine, Optimistic Themes, Overprotective Partners, Period Typical Attitudes, Referenced murder, Revenge, Romance, Shooting Guns, Supportive Partners, referenced crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28697970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eryiss/pseuds/Eryiss
Summary: Certain families shaped New York City. Two such families were the Dreyar's and the Justine's. The Dreyar's ran the famous bar named Fairy Tail, an institution of the city. The Justine's were key players in the city’s criminal underworld, hated by both police and the newspapers alike. The difference between the two families meant they were never forced to associate.But with the rise of prohibition, the Dreyar family is brought into the criminal world, led by the youngest son, Laxus Dreyar. A tense antagonism forms between the two families, and almost everyone is expecting the rivalry to get violent. With both families deciding to stay out of each other’s way, an uneasy truce was formed and maintained.Until Freed Justine, having just been disowned from his family, arrives at Laxus' doorstep with an offer. A job in exchange for information. A simple proposition, with unprecedented repercussions.
Relationships: Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30
Collections: Mashima's Heroes Big Bang





	1. INTRODUCTIONS

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Mashima’s Heroes Big Bang, a writing event where artists create fanart based off of fanfiction. I have been paired up with the wonderful _[@FairiesHereFairiesThere](https://fairiesherefairiesthere.tumblr.com/) _again, and they have created an incredible piece based on a later chapter, which you _[can see here.](https://fairiesherefairiesthere.tumblr.com/post/641922103545921536/hello-people-this-is-an-art-piece-for-the) _. Remember to give them lots of love.
> 
> Thank you so much for any comments and kudos you leave. They mean so much. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.

**Chapter One – Introductions**

**_~February 1921~_ **

Slamming his hand on a stranger's door was not something he had ever done before.

But that night was populated with many firsts for the man. It was the first time he had ever left the comfort of his town house at two in the morning, walking the streets of New York in a thunderstorm. It was the first time a group of men had battered on his door and demanded entrance to his home, pushing past him without waiting for an answer. It was the first time his father had sat him down and explained in no uncertain – but definitely angered – terms that he was a disgrace, and that he was no longer part of their family. It was the first time that he had looked up the address of a man that, up until that point, had never held any real importance in his life. So yes, it was a night of firsts for Freed Justine.

With rain battering down on him and wind swirling both his hair and his clothes, Freed slammed his open palm on the door three more times with strength fuelled by adrenaline. Hardened eyes glared narrowly at the unmoving door, and with every whistle of the strong and manic wind he found his anger at the situation doubling.

The lights were flickering inside; someone was there, and Freed would be seen to even if he had to wait the whole damn night. He had nowhere else to be.

A droplet of rain hitting his eye further ignited his anger, and he balled his fist and pounded on the black door in front of him. His knuckles stung slightly at the force with which he acted, but the many other sensations of the storm coupled with his resentment and rage at the situation overpowered any glimmer of regret. He took a step back, walking down the stairs that lead to the house's front porch, and glanced at the curtains covering the view of the downstairs room. No movement.

Just as he was considering yelling through the window to get the homeowners attention – because his spiteful dedication to the situation was overwhelming his good sense of manners and politeness – he heard the sound of metal on metal; a latch moving. A moment later, the door was opened by an incredibly unimpressed man.

Laxus Dreyar; so-called up and coming king of New York's criminal society.

He was slightly disappointing, Freed concluded on instinct. The arrival of a new crime family had created a large threat to The Justine's legacy, or so his father seemed to think. They were gaining power and influence fast, and nobody was able to control them, nor predict them. They were led by a man who, in the telling and retelling of his actions, had gained a reputation that rivalled Freed's fathers. A monolithic force of nature.

But the man standing before Freed was just that: a man. Admittedly rather a handsome one, with striking blonde hair, broad shoulders and a perfectly trimmed waist shown well by his tight cut suit and jacket, the shirt untucked and ruffled. He was as much a regular man as Freed himself.

A glare was painted onto his features, and perhaps a lesser man might have crumbled under it. He had a clearly expressive face, and the anger was not forced. But Freed had been surrounded by the types of men who would kill someone without a second thought for any number of reasons, and had long since gotten past the ridiculous notion that a facial expression could instil fear.

Snarling dogs were still just dog. Freed would not cower to a dog, no matter how loud the snarl.

After a moment of looking at one another, ego fighting ego, Freed felt his patience snap. By all rights he should be in his bed, not standing outside in the cold, rain moulding his hair to his head only to have wind set it free again. Returning to his bed, and his house, was something he could no longer do. But he could get out of the rain. So, in an action that was aggravatingly reminiscent of his father entering his own house earlier in the night, Freed walked up the rest of the steps and through the doorway of the house, pushing the criminal to the side as he did so.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Freed, having learned early the usefulness of knowing one's surroundings, gave the hallway of the house a glance over as he turned to Laxus. The hallway was large, and decorated ostentatiously; a sure sign that the money the Dreyar's now had was new to them. If they continued getting power at such a rate in the future, they would have to learn to be more subtle with their spending.

Freed also couldn't ignore Laxus' unique taste in décor; put kindly. The little statue of a golden dragon was particularly… unexpected.

As he turned, he also spared a glance at the mirror. He had been wearing a delightfully expensive tuxedo before he'd left his home, as befitting a gentleman of his status. Now, it was drenched and bedraggled, making him look like a mess. He'd need a hotel with good bathing facilities tonight.

That thought quickly was pushed to the back of his mind, as he saw Laxus' hand resting on a pistol on his belt. Not ideal.

"Get out of my fucking house," Laxus continued, his voice a low growl. He could be threatening then. "I ain't gonna ask again."

"I thought you wanted to know why I'm here, have you changed your mind?" Freed asked; it would be easy to get the power in the conversation. The blonde seemed rather oafish, even if he seemed to pull it off well.

"Shut up," The man growled again. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"At the moment it seems I'm drenching your floor with rain water. You wouldn't be kind enough to give me a towel, would you?" He sent a polite smile to the man, who brushed his fingers against his weapon. Charm wasn't going to work then. "You should close the door, Mr Dreyar, I expect the draft might soon become bothersome if you don't."

"I don't expect you'll be here long enough for it to matter," Laxus grunted.

He didn't seem perturbed by Freed's demand, nor by the admission that Freed knew who he was. That was somewhat bothersome for Freed, who had hoped for at least a quirk of the eyebrow or a twitch of the fingers as a way to read the man. The rumours had said Laxus could be stone-faced, so perhaps his reputation wasn't as exaggerated as Freed wanted.

"Well I'm afraid that I'm going to have to disappoint you then," Freed replied conversationally, watching as the fingers that had been stroking the gun now wrapped around it. He was pushing his luck. "My name is Freed Justine; I believe you've heard of my father."

The gun was pulled out and aimed at him within a second.

Staring down the barrel of a gun, a finger resting on its trigger, was a horrid experience. Because of his lot in life, Freed had found himself in the situation many times. He'd gotten as used to it as a man could get, but his heart still lurched, and mind raced. The man who didn't react like this when threatened with a gun had lost all their will to live, and Freed had not gotten to that point yet.

But unfortunately for Laxus, he had exposed a weakness. The Justine's and The Dreyar's were rival families, even if nobody said it aloud. Freed, at least to Laxus' knowledge, was a high-ranking member of his family's syndicate. Someone with power and authority, who was a threat to Laxus. So for him to force his way into Laxus' house was dangerous; not only because he could have easily spooked Laxus into killing him, but also because being an invader meant there was no murder charges if he did decide to shoot.

But he hadn't. He had clenched his gun tighter, but not pulled the trigger. And that meant, unless attacked, Laxus probably wouldn't shoot at all.

Just as they had done when Laxus had opened the door, they looked into one another's eyes and held contact. Freed knew he had to win their silent fight this time, because if he lost then he'd be thrown out on his ass and with a further bruise to his ego. He also couldn't do anything more because, although he was fairly sure Laxus wouldn't kill him for no reason, it was easy to pull a trigger on instinct. The idea sent a quick rush of panic though Freed, but he did all he could not to show it as his heartbeat rushed and his blood flowed hotly though his body.

"Why are you in my house?" Laxus' tone was still angry and filled with a threat, but the fact he spoke told Freed that he had won.

"I have a proposition for you, but we can get to that later," Freed spoke calmly, pleasantly. "I think first I should get that towel."

"No."

"You can't blame me for trying," Freed chuckled, taking a step forward. The gun followed him, and Freed paused. So Laxus wasn't ready for him to move yet. That was fine. "If this is how you wish to talk, then so be it. I believe that, as of tonight, we both have an issue that need amending. And I believe that we can help one another with these issues; I'm here to offer that help to you."

"No."

"Yes," Freed said, adding some authority to his tone now. "This really would be a conversation more suited to a sitting room, holding me at gunpoint in your hallway isn't particularly-"

"No."

"Oh for goodness sake. Are you able to say anything other than no? Hardly the mastermind of negotiations that I was led to believe you were," Freed muttered under his breath, twitching as the gun was raised slightly higher. He continued without movement. "Fine. I won't mince my words if this is how we do this. You and your family are very quickly headed towards a catastrophe, something that I have already experienced. I can help you avoid your empire imploding, and all I wish for in return is that you help me with my… newly acquired issue."

Glancing at Laxus, Freed noticed a tenseness grow further through his posture. He had expected that to be the case; he had essentially just insulted the man and alluded to an inevitable downfall. But, even if his finger still rested on the trigger, he didn't seem close to shooting. The rigidity went as quickly as it came.

"My business is fine," Laxus growled. "And ain't none of your business."

"It is my business in every sense of the word," Freed snapped back. "And this little life you've created for yourself, if you don't change how you act, will die and will take you with it. Of course you don't know how that will happen yet, which is why I feel I can help you," He muttered the latter statement. "But the fact is, if you keep acting like you are right now, then the tense relationships you've made will turn antagonistic and will lead to a conflict that you know you can't win. You're new to this, it's extremely evident, and when people realise that they will take advantage of it. In that, there is absolutely no doubt."

He glared defiantly at Laxus, glaring straight down the gun's barrel, adrenaline replacing fear. He was desperate and needed the man to believe him – to help him – and would do whatever he needed to. But he wouldn't beg unless it was absolutely needed.

A beat passed. Neither man spoke.

"What d'you drink?" Laxus eventually grunted, and Freed almost smirked as Laxus kicked his door shut.

"Port, though I doubt you have any," He tried to keep his smugness hidden from his voice.

"Think I've got a little of it," Laxus spoke without emotion.

He motioned towards a door in the hallway with his gun, and once Freed walked through it he found himself in a sitting room. Freed no longer was paying any mind to the gun pointed at him, because the fact Laxus had conceded meant that he probably already had doubts about his standings in criminal society, and thought Freed was the answer. He needed Freed as much as Freed needed him, and that was enough to keep him alive so long as he behaved himself.

Again, after a jerk from the pistol, Freed sat on one of the ornate chairs that was both obviously new and grandiose; the house reeked of new money, it was almost embarrassing. He watched almost amusedly as Laxus walked to a drinks cabinet and pulled out a bottle and a glass while still holding the gun. At least it wasn't pointed at him now.

When a small serving of the port was given to him, Freed took a sip.

"That's rather good," Freed praised, placing the glass on a side table. He expected he wouldn't get anything more, so wanted to savour it. "Perhaps not as good as what was available before all of this nonsense began, but certainly the nicest drink I've had in a long while."

"You said you had an issue, and you needed my help," Laxus said as he sat in a chair opposite Freed. His tone was almost… patronising. "And you seemed awfully passionate about how bad things can go for me, so I'm pretty sure you're desperate. What happened?"

Freed looked towards Laxus again, and his hackles raised slightly. This had been a trap of sorts, then.

The blonde was smirking, leaning back in his large chair. The gun was resting untouched on the arm, pointed towards Freed and clearly a constant reminder that Freed was the one in danger in the situation, not Laxus. His posture was relaxed, he had a toying glint in his eyes, and he was clearly trying to emphasise how much larger he was than Freed. Which he was, with broad shoulders rounded and thick legs spread to emphasise this. If Freed were anyone else, this might have been intimidating.

But Freed knew posturing when he saw it, and this was a clear example. They were both playing this little dance of dominance, wanting to remain in control should the situation turn sour. But that couldn't last forever with what Freed needed, so he allowed himself a disadvantage.

"I have been excommunicated from my family," Freed admitted, trying to sound nonchalant.

Laxus let out a little 'heh' at that, as if pleased. Freed bristled.

"And with that comes a lot of issues," Freed continued, though his tone was a little sharper now. "One of which being that, from now on, I no longer have a job, nor a home. So, I'm coming to you as I know that your main source of income comes from your tavern, and people willing to work at speakeasies are few and far between. I wish to have a job under you, and in return I will advise you on navigating the criminal world without making yourself a target."

"Bullshit," Laxus said plainly. "You could get any job, and not risk pissing off your father if he changes his mind. And with how needy you were being in wanting my help," He smirked, and Freed tensed further. "You're clearly not telling me everything."

"I've told you everything you need to know."

"Not if you want my help you ain't," Laxus laughed. "Why'd he kick you out."

"That's not important."

"Beg to differ."

"It's not," Freed repeated forcefully, and Laxus raised an eyebrow. How he'd lost his advantage so quickly Freed didn't know, but he knew he couldn't get it back yet without ruining his chances of getting help. He needed to concede a little more. "The reason will… it evokes strong reactions. My father will make the reason, and my disownment, known as a way to reaffirm his control. People know where I lived, will want to hurt me, and I need to make changes in my life quickly. And being the son of a notorious gangster means employment isn't easy to get in a hurry."

"That's a shame," Laxus smirked, sarcasm not hidden. "But I ain't even considering helping you if you don't tell me why he kicked you out."

"Why?" Freed narrowed his eyes. But the fact Laxus would consider helping him in the right circumstances did give Freed a glimmer of hope. "Why is it important?"

"Because you're the son of a guy who probably wants me dead, and definitely wants my business ruined," Laxus laughed, leaning further back in his chair. He was getting cocky, but Freed could utilise that. "And if you think I'm going to let some little prick in my bar who could easily be bullshittin' me, then you're fucking stupid. So tell me how you got on your daddy's bad side, I'll check it out to see if it's true, then maybe I'll be charitable."

"May I remind you, Mr Dreyar, that the reason I'm in this room is because you know you need me just as much as I need you," Freed snapped back, because subtlety be dammed. Laxus just smirked wider, and Freed knew he had shown his hand too early. "If you must know, I fucked one of his guards."

"He's guarded by women?" Laxus asked.

"No," Freed grunted.

Perhaps it was fuelled by his annoyance at losing control of the situation, but the time it took for Laxus to understand what Freed had implied was incredibly aggravating. Admitting something like that was never pleasant, as you could never guess if they'd simply be disgusted or think you're worthy of a beating.

"So," Laxus said after a moment, and there was a notable lack of disgust in his voice. In fact he sounded amused. "You fucked a guy and your daddy kicked you out? And now you're so desperate that you're coming to me."

"I need work, and doing something that pisses him off is ideal," Freed shrugged, and Laxus kept looking at him. Again, he needed to concede a defeat. "And you're more likely to overlook illegality than regular employment."

"Was that so hard to say?" Laxus taunted, and Freed was half tempted to attack the man.

But he didn't, because despite the blonde's clear cocky persona, and apparent enjoyment of the situation, Freed felt as though there was a chance he would get help now. The fact that Laxus didn't kick him out of his house, or shoot him, upon revealing he was gay was significant. Many men like Laxus would feel no guilt for killing a man like Freed, and yet Laxus maintained a conversation. The fact that he was taunting him rather than beating him was substantial, and Freed felt that as long as he didn't push Laxus too far, he might be his salvation.

Christ, the fact he needed salvation was humiliating.

Thankfully, it seemed Laxus was doing what Freed had wanted to do. He was making it known that he was in charge, but not forgetting that this was a mutually beneficial situation. And, as much as Freed didn't enjoy being the punchline of a joke, he could put up with it for now if it meant he got his way.

"What exactly did you think you could do in the tavern?" Laxus asked, and Freed had to stop hope from blooming.

"Accounts."

"Fuck no," Laxus laughed.

"Barman."

"No," Laxus repeated, and it was a word that was grating on Freed's nerves. "You ain't getting anywhere near my money."

"A server of some kind then," Freed gritted his teeth.

"Mainly have men as customers, and they like a pretty girl serving them," Laxus shrugged. "And as much as you might like flirting with men, not sure they'd feel the same way," He smirked again, a little sadistically. "How about scrubbing shit from the toilets all night?"

He almost took it. Because his dignity was nothing without his safety.

And he was desperate, he really was, even if he was trying to convince himself that he wasn't. Once his father made it clear that his gay son had been kicked out of the family, the word would spread. Employment in the normal places wouldn't be possible, and people would want to vent their anger at his so-called perversion through violence. A crime family like Laxus' could overlook crime, and people would be less likely to attack him at the risk of starting a gang war. That was why he needed Laxus' help.

As he went to speak – to confine himself to be the shit-cleaner of New York's drunkards – his eyes landed on something. A picture of what he assumed was the Fairy Tail tavern before prohibition started, sitting on the side table. People were standing around a piano, and Freed felt a further pulse of hope awaken.

"Do you have music played?" He asked, and Laxus frowned.

"Not for a while, no," Laxus shrugged, and Freed saw an opportunity. "Musicians ain't got the biggest balls really. Scared of getting into trouble."

"A shame. Most of the reason people go to taverns rather than drinking at home is the atmosphere," Freed mused aloud, hoping to get a small amount of control in the conversation again. "I assume that you've still got that piano, correct? I'm classically trained, and can play a variety of genres."

"You wanna be a pianist?" Laxus asked, amused.

"It's a skill I have, more dignity than cleaning bathrooms, and is beneficial to your business," Freed explained. "And since you clearly don't trust me, it allows you to keep tabs on me. Most of the night I'll be in the middle of the floor playing, and when I'm not it'll be obvious by the lack of music. It seems good for both of us."

Laxus seemed to consider this, and Freed said nothing, not wanting to risk ruining his chances. He noticed that, during their conversation, Laxus was no longer resting his fingers against the gun and his posture had changed slightly; a little less domineering than it had been at the start. This was all promising to Freed who, despite having insisted on seeing him immediately, had been pessimistic about his chances with Laxus.

Looking directly at the man, it was clear to see when Laxus had made a decision. The slight conflicted look lessened and his eyes narrowed a little as he looked straight into Freed's eyes. He didn't speak, waiting for Laxus to reinitiate conversation.

"Six AM," Laxus stated. "You're at the door at six AM. I hear how good you are. If you ain't good enough, you ain't getting a job and you leave me alone. For good. You understand?"

"Yes," Freed said.

"Then you'll leave," Laxus stood up, picking his gun up again.

He motioned with it for Freed to walk out into the hall again. Freed did as he was instructed, knowing that Laxus' charity – because that's what it was really – was tenuous at best. He walked to the door and opened it, sighing slightly at the heavy rain and wind that was still roaring. Previously he had been too engrossed in his anger at the situation to care. But now the idea of walking to the nearest hotel in this was repellent.

That sensation quickly died when a large hand wrapped around his neck from behind and a gun was pushed firmly into his spine.

"You even think about fucking me over," Laxus growled into his ear. "You make one mistake, you give me any reason to mistrust you, you take advantage of this kindness, then you're done. Your body gets discovered washed up and found by a guy working the docks, and your cock is sent back to daddy wrapped up in a pretty fucking bow. You understand me?"

"Yes," Freed growled back, glaring forward while gritting his teeth.

Laxus said nothing else, pushing Freed forward and out of his home. The door was slammed behind him, and Freed ground his teeth, fist clenching as he was left in the storm battering New York. He walked forward with a glare, deciding to go to a hotel that he knew always had rooms, the anger that had been steadily boiling up through the day coming to a rise.

But in the back of his mind, he had hope. And at that moment, that was all he needed.

* * *

**_~1 Week Later~_ **

Walking into Fairy Tail always gave Laxus a small, perhaps arrogant thrill.

He'd grown up there, essentially. His grandfather owned the place before alcohol had been outlawed, and the tavern was part of who he was. He had always known that one day it would be his, given his father was no longer part of their family and he was the only other successor. But having it as his, being able to call it his own and do with it what he wanted, was so much better than he could have imagined.

When he pushed through the doors of what appeared to be an old, unused music store – they'd had to relocate for obvious reasons – he was met with the sound of people talking, laughing, and drinking. To know that he had facilitated this – that he was the reason for them being there – was addictive. He was in charge, and he loved it.

And really, who wouldn't?

Because not only did his new place in life give him a thrill, but it also filled his wallet and offered him a level of respect he'd never gotten before. Previously he'd been the grandson of Makarov Dreyar, just the young relative of the man who owned the famous tavern. But now he was Laxus, criminal and provider of alcohol during prohibition. People looked to him as someone not to be reckoned with, someone to both fear and adore simultaneously. He was the man holding his middle finger up to the unjust bullshit that his country had turned to, and the innate rebel inside crooned silently at the praise that got him. He was a man of power now, and it was incredible.

As he walked through Fairy Tail, people greeted him. Those who knew him were trying to get in his good graces, and weren't subtle about it. Laxus didn't care, he enjoyed the grovelling if he were honest. He didn't think he'd get used to it, and doubted that it would stop anytime soon, and he was content with that.

There was one outlier to this trend of respect: Freed Justine.

Now, Laxus hadn't surrounded himself by bootlickers and ass-kissers. While he got a rush by strangers scrambling over themselves to get on his good side, he wanted kickback from his staff. If someone was pissed off at him, he wanted to know; better to have honesty from his workers than have them attempting some sort of coup behind his back. So almost all of his staff had backbone, and voice their opinions when it was appropriate, just like Laxus wanted.

But the was Freed did it was… different. Maybe Laxus felt that way because of how they'd first met, where Laxus really had held all the cards in terms of power. He had expected that Freed would be so thankful and gracious for Laxus' display of pity – because he really did pity the man – that he would be obedient and wouldn't dare speak out of turn.

That had not been the case. There was no pretence with him, nor bullshit about what he was feeling. He felt as just comfortable speaking his mind as any of the staff members, many of whom who had known Laxus not as a criminal but as a kid.

Laxus was conflicted between wanting to threaten the bastard or to laugh at his arrogance.

He did enjoy pissing the guy off, though. Maybe Freed had realised that Laxus wasn't a killer unless truly pushed towards it, and that his threats were mainly empty, but that didn't make him a saint. The guy needed him and had a lot of pride, meaning Laxus could have some fun with him. For example, while he had told Freed to arrive at six AM for his audition, Laxus had shown up at eight-thirty, and Freed had been waiting in the cold for him. The glare and clipped conversation had been hysterical. It also showed Freed his place.

Though that had been somewhat diminished when Freed started playing, and Laxus felt his stomach flip at the slow melody that Freed had chosen to perform. He was an undoubtedly good pianist, and because of that Laxus had honoured his part of the deal.

As he walked to the bar, he spared the man no glances.

He walked behind the bar, where Gray Fullbuster and Lucy Heartfilia were working. They both greeted him while keeping their focus on customers. Good; he'd hired them not just because of their proficiency and making drinks, but because a flirtatious wink from some pretty young thing could sell a drink at a higher price. Gray had some young woman blushing as she nursed a glass of overprices booze, and Lucy had three men – and interestingly, a woman – enraptured as she poured them all drinks she would readily overcharge for.

"You kept an eye on him like I asked?" He murmured as he walked behind them.

"Of course," Lucy said as she slid over a drink, smiling at the older man who was ogling her. Laxus would have to get Elfman to keep an eye on him, he was almost drooling. "He's been fine. Hasn't done anything you don't pay him to do."

"As if he could," Gray laughed, walking from his customer to place used glasses under the counter. "He's literally the centre of attention, nobody can take their eyes off him. If he wanted to sneak off or whatever you think he's gonna do, his plan backfired."

"I don't trust him," Laxus muttered, glancing towards Freed again.

"Really?" Lucy said in mock surprise. "I thought having everyone spy on him was your way of welcoming him as part of the family. You really are subtle."

"Watch your mouth, woman," Laxus grunted.

"Why don't you make me," Lucy countered back, turning to face Laxus with a grin on her face. "Sir."

Laxus broke her gaze, and hoped that she wouldn't see the small, embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks before he willed it away. This was a new thing the women of his staff had begun doing; anytime he did something that pissed them off, all they needed to do was flirt even slightly and Laxus' innate discomfort when it came to people overtook him, and he became awkward and a little embarrassed.

He could only hope that the men didn't try it because that would be… that would be another problem entirely.

The embarrassment wasn't helped by the now ever-present sound of Freed's music playing. Freed being there made Laxus very aware of how he treated his staff. The Justine's were renowned for brutality and ruthlessness, so Laxus doubted any of their staff would dare to treat the headman like Laxus was treated. He wondered what Freed thought about it whenever he saw it.

"I've got shit to deal with upstairs," He muttered, and Lucy laughed. "Don't know when I'll be down again, so make sure you keep an eye on him. And once he's finished, you kick him out. No exceptions, okay?"

"Yeah, you've mentioned it once or twice," Gray chuckled. "He only gets to be here when he's working."

"And I mean it," Laxus said firmly, and both of his employees nodded. "And if any shit starts to happen, you better call me down to deal with it okay. No matter how…" He paused, glanced at the older man still ogling Lucy, and grit his teeth slightly. "Pathetic it is, I'll deal with it."

"We know," Lucy laughed, turning to the customers again. She looked over her shoulder and grinned. It was the same stupid flirtatious grin she used to taunt him. "Goodbye, sir."

Laxus glared at her, cheeks going red again as he walked to the rickety wooden staircase that led to his office. As he walked he overheard his employees talking to one another, Gray telling Lucy that if she kept calling Laxus sir in that way then he might start acting on the flirtations. Lucy had laughed, saying that Laxus didn't seem the type.

There was a slight falter in Laxus' step as he heard that. While what she said was true – he really would never act on any of the flirtations from his female workers – he had to wonder if she knew why. Hopefully, she just assumed he wouldn't fuck an employee.

He couldn't fixate on that, so he pushed it to the back of his mind.

As he collapsed into his office chair, he sighed and ran a hand over his face and through his hair. He flicked open the top button of his shirt and opened one of the small windows, allowing the dank New York air to cool him slightly. With a yawn, he let his eyes close for a moment. He loved his work in Fairy Tail, and the benefits that came with it were undeniable, but it was exhausting.

Especially when one of his suppliers decided that he would bust Laxus' balls by raising then price of his booze. Of course that hadn't gone down well, and with Gajeel and Evergreen there to help make his point, the supplier had quickly changed his mind. Funny what a gun could do.

But it had been a stressful day, and Laxus wanted a break. He walked to the drink's cabinet in the back of his office, unlocked it and poured himself a glass. Like most of the drink's manufacturers, his favourite whiskey brewers had closed down during prohibition rather than going to the underground market, meaning this particular bottle of whiskey was a rarity. Laxus didn't sell it to his patrons; branded drinks were his and his alone. Though, he supposed if someone was desperate enough, he could name a price.

He tapped his fingers against the glass, the smooth brown booze gently jumping with each strong clink. He closed his eyes as he brought the drink to his lips and gulped down half of it, groaning as he allowed himself to relax. His drifting mind lingered on the gentle music.

Freed really knew how to play. It was astounding.

Although he claimed to be classically trained, he wasn't limited to old music, and he used his variety to his advantage. Laxus, after spending the first few nights of Freed's employ essentially spying on the man, had realised Freed had finetuned his song choices to fit with the different types of audiences. At the start of the night, he'd play understated music as an accompaniment to people's drinking. As it got later, and people got drunker, the songs became more interesting; something to dance to for those who wanted. By the end of the night, when the booze had truly taken effect, he went for fast paced jazz that elected cheers and hollers late into the night. He worked the crowd well without saying a word to them.

He was still at the first stage of his performance as Laxus relaxed in his office, playing light and inobtrusive songs that were pleasant to the ear but not taxing or overpowering. It was nice, and Laxus enjoyed listening to it.

When he'd been watching Freed, he hadn't been able to concentrate on the music.

Freed really was gifted musically.

Shaking his head to wake himself up, Laxus sat up straight and finished the rest of the drink. He needed to be awake, both because he had work to do and just in case any of his customers got rowdy; he couldn't leave his bouncers to work alone while he napped in the office after all. With that in mind, he unlocked his desk draw and pulled out some financial paperwork he needed to finish before the end of the week. This too was a downside of being a businessowner, even if not a legitimate one.

As he worked through his paperwork, he found himself absently humming along to the music slipping through the crack in his office door.

And in the few moments where he let his eyes close as a quick rest, he found himself imagining what Freed looked like as he played. How his hands would dance across the keys and his face would go into that relaxed expression that was such a contrast to the manic and almost feral look that he'd shown when they had first met. He considered why he couldn't decide which version of Freed he preferred; the calm musician or the bedraggled gameplayer. He asked himself why he should have a favourite version of the man that he didn't trust.

But, when a yawn split his lips, he found that he didn't care. Instead, he listened to the piano playing with contentment, and got on with his work.

* * *

**_~Two Weeks Later~_ **

"You know you're allowed to drink an actual drink, right?" Bickslow laughed. "He doesn't mind."

Freed smiled a little at the comment, cupping his glass of water. He sat at one of the many tables scattered around Fairy Tail's main room, sharing it with both Bickslow and Evergreen. They were looking at him with amusement as they drank their beer – well, moonshine was a closer term for the drink – while Freed drank his water. They were teasing him, as they had been from the moment he arrived, and he accepted it; the two of them were the closest things to friends he had found in Fairy Tail, and he was enjoying them for their eccentricities.

They'd met one another a week back, where the two of them had arrived at Fairy Tail late and began working. Freed had noticed them beforehand, seeing that they had unusual work hours compared to others in the tavern, but were always there. Freed had assumed that they were more intrenched in the criminal aspects of the tavern, and their work hours were unusual because they were on the streets, working for Laxus in ways other than serving drinks.

He didn't pry into it; he knew better than that.

By happenstance, he didn't have to. Apparently his observations of the two of them hadn't gone unnoticed, and they had approached him after a night at the piano asking if he wanted a drink. He'd complied, understanding that this was some kind of test; one he had passed. They had tried to intimidate him, make it clear that if he wanted trouble they would happily oblige, and when Freed didn't cower nor clam up at their threat, they seemed to have respect for him.

At the time Freed had thought nothing more of the situation, but as the two continued inviting him to drinks after he'd finished work, they'd formed a friendship. He enjoyed their company, and not just because losing his standing in the Justine family – and the money that came with it – also made him lose his so-called friends. At least Ever and Bix didn't seem scared of him, like his old friends had; it was refreshing.

"I think it's best if I don't," Freed chuckled. "He practically salivates at every opportunity to get rid of me. Essentially stealing from him would be pushing my luck."

"Yeah, that's why he's salivating," Bickslow mumbled, and Freed frowned at him.

"You really shouldn't pay too much mind to Laxus," Evergreen laughed. "He's just quite territorial, that's all. But he wouldn't have let you here if he didn't trust you. I doubt he'll care if you get something to drink."

"I'd rather be cautious. Given the situation I doubt that I can risk getting on his bad side," Freed shrugged slightly; most likely everyone knew why he was there, so why be subtle? "And then there's the fact that I haven't drunk anything other than a half-glass of port since the beginning of prohibition. I've probably lost my tolerance for it, and I doubt anyone would appreciate me drunkenly screeching showtunes though the night."

"I dunno," A deep, gravelly voice from behind spoke, and Freed tensed. "Pretty good blackmail, I'd say."

The three gathered people turned to see Laxus, and Freed was trapped into a stare down by the smirking gangster. His hackles raised slightly at the look of amusement that was clear on the blonde's face – the same expression that Laxus got whenever he seemed to wrongfoot Freed. Admittedly that didn't happen often, given how careful Freed needed to be in his precarious situation, but it had always served to antagonise Freed. He promised himself that, should he ever have the same effect on Laxus, he would be equally smug about it.

"Hey man," Bickslow grinned. "You need us for anything?"

"Not tonight," Laxus dismissed. "You can be on the door with Elfman. Ever, I want you as a waitress tonight. Some creep's been after the girls, if he tries any shit with you I want you to deal with it. Do whatever, just make sure you can pass it off as an accident."

"Sure," Ever grinned, and Bickslow nodded. "Settle an argument for us. Freed gets free drinks like the rest of us, right?"

"Not if he doesn't wanna be thrown out on his ass he doesn't," Laxus replied, and the presence of that damnable cocky expression told Freed that he was probably joking. Still, he probably shouldn't risk it.

"You're fucking stupid," Bickslow laughed up at Laxus, shaking his head.

There was probably a subtext to Bickslow's words, and if Freed wanted to, he might have been able to figure it out. But, as had happened over the last few weeks, Freed found his mind preoccupied with how causal Laxus' workers acted around him. He was the head of both the Dreyar Family and the Fairy Tail business, which should have given him unrelenting respect. And he was by no means a pacifist, should the stories about him be true, so there should be a certain of level of fear aimed towards him. Nobody working for Laxus seemed to show it.

His father wouldn't have accepted any of that. If he heard so much as a whisper behind his back then he would have acted swiftly and with violence. Freed, as part of his ridiculous training for when he would replace his father, had watched as a man's fingernails were ripped out simply because the man completed an assignment an hour later than expected. It had been a long night full of shouting and screaming.

Would Laxus ever do that? Freed couldn't be sure yet.

"Justine," Laxus raised his voice slightly, and Freed looked to him. "I wanna talk to you. My office, come on."

"Of course," Freed nodded, and stood.

As he walked behind the bar and towards the staircase that led to Laxus' office, he missed the shared look of amusement between his two friends and Laxus' quick glare at them both. His mind was too busy fighting off the dreaded possibility that he might be losing his job.

Because it was almost inevitable that his father knew Freed was working for Fairy Tail at this point. He probably had informants keeping tabs on Freed and watching wherever he went, it was why he was keeping a steady rotation of hotels to stay at rather than finding an apartment to rent. That might have been a good choice, because if he was about to lose his job then he'd be without the protection of the Dreyar name, making him vulnerable to his father's whims.

Again, Freed wondered if taking that charming, barrel chested guard to bed was worth it.

"Take a seat," Laxus offered, motioning to the chair that sat opposite his desk.

Freed pulled it out and sat down, watching as Laxus relaxed into the large leather chair that had been tucked behind the desk. It was a grand and obnoxious thing, and it reminded Freed of just how new to having large amounts of money was to Laxus, because one of the few useful things of note his father had taught him was to spend modestly. The more evidence of illegal earnings the police could find, the larger the risk of repercussions.

He tried to relax into the seat as best he could, and watched as Laxus opened a small drinks cabinet from behind his desk. He pulled out a bottle of what seemed to be port – a cheap brand, but the fact Laxus had any branded alcohol at all was now a luxury – and poured some for Freed. He placed it before him and looked at him expectantly.

"I thought if I drank without paying then I got fired," He phrased it almost as a joke, but there was an edge of caution in it.

"I'll dock yer wages," Laxus shrugged. "We need to talk."

"I suppose so," Freed agreed.

There was a beat of silence.

"Look, part of the reason I hired you was because you said that you'd be able to help me deal with the politics of crime, and so far you haven't," Freed went to speak, but Laxus raised a hand to stop him. "And that's my fault, because I don't trust ya and I wouldn't take advice from a man I don't trust. But you've been here a few weeks now, and the numbers of people coming in have gone up since you've been playing," Freed felt a small flicker of pride at that. "And I'm pretty sure you realised that I've been having people make sure you don't pull any shit. And you haven't."

"Your bar staff aren't entirely subtle," Freed commented, and Laxus chuckled.

"Yeah, they ain't spies," He let out a small sigh. "Look, I think at this point I can trust you, at least a little. Not as much as the rest of my people, but more than I did at the start. But I wanna ask you a few questions before we do, because there's a couple things about your story that don't add up."

"If that's what you need then okay," Freed agreed. "But I didn't lie."

"Maybe, but you left shit out," Laxus rebutted, and Freed didn't argue the point. "So, you told me yer dad kicked you out of the family because you were fucking a guy, right? I'm pretty sure that the whole 'family is everything' bullshit is important to him. So even if he didn't like ya bein' gay, I wouldn't have thought he'd disown you just for that. So what's the real reason?"

"That was the real reason," Freed responded.

"The whole reason?"

"No," Freed conceded. "There had been others. He had a habit of hiring attractive men, and I had a habit of bedding them. Sometimes they confessed to it, sometimes they left his employ and he figured out why, and one on occasion he walked in on me in the act," Freed chuckled at that. "He was horrified, it was very gratifying. The attempt at beating me was less so."

"Attempt?" Laxus frowned.

"He expected his 'queer of a son' wouldn't fight back. He was wrong," Freed smirked. "But there had been warnings, demands and threats against me, to stop me from continuing. I didn't of course, and it seemed his bedding his most loyal guard was the straw that broke the camel's back."

"Right, I guess that makes sense," Laxus said with a small nod. "I'll believe that, but I still don't think you've told me everything. Because my address ain't common knowledge and you knowing it, and going there ain't an impulsive decision. So why did ya do it?"

Freed sighed a little.

"It wasn't impulsive, you're right," Freed admitted. "My father and I have never gotten along well. We have opposing values on a lot of things, and we've butted heads more than once. Recently I'd gotten tired of remaining chaste for his reputation, and perhaps spitefully I decided to indulge myself. There has been a tension growing, and me leaving the family in some way seemed inevitable. He, and the people he surrounds himself with, are violent and cruel, I needed protection. You were the obvious way to get it."

"How'd ya come to that?"

"Politics," Freed shrugged. "My father excels at reputation. He's not as influential and strong as he makes people believe, and nowhere near powerful enough to start a gang war. You've been gaining power and influence at a fast rate, and his information on you is limited, so he's cautious. He wouldn't risk anything and therefore if you took me as an employee, then he would have to leave me alone."

"You've given this some thought," Laxus chuckled, leaning back in his chair was a somewhat amused expression on his features.

"I expect most people working for my father have considered how they'd disappear if they fell on his bad side," Freed shrugged. "I thought that was the same in all criminal syndicates, but it seems that the people working here actually like and respect you."

"And what about you?" Laxus asked. "What d'you think about me."

"I think you need to keep your employees loyal, because if anyone defects to another family and tells them how you act around your employees they'll assume you're weak and see an opportunity," Freed said honestly. "I think you're perhaps in over your head and don't know what you're doing, though maybe that's because I've only seen the side of you that owns a bar rather than the side that threatens people into silence. But I think as a person and a boss, you're perhaps quite kind. Which is unusual."

"I guess that's fair," Laxus nodded slowly. He didn't seem insulted, which Freed felt somewhat surprised by. "I like to think I ain't some dumbass kid who fell into a world he ain't ready for, but like ya said, you ain't seen me in action."

"No, I haven't," Freed agreed. "And what do you think of me?"

He might have been pushing his luck by asking, but he felt he needed to know. Laxus was something of an enigma to him, given that he seemed to reject every stereotype of a gangster that Freed had come to know. But he was at Laxus' mercy, and knowing where he was standing with the man could mean life or death.

"I think you play the piano really well," Laxus shrugged, raising a glass towards Freed. "And I think we could work well together, eventually."

"Yes," Freed agreed, lip curling up slightly. He raised his own glass in toast. "I think we could."


	2. ADAPTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Freed was forced to turn to an enemy due to changing circumstances, Laxus found himself enraptured by the music of a man that he didn't trust, and the potential for a future friendship was made over a drink shared between men.

**Chapter Two – Adaption**

_**~Five Weeks Later~** _

Being at an opera, sitting beside Freed Justine of all people, was not something Laxus could have expected would happen.

Even though he had been the person to suggest it, he hadn't actually expected Freed to agree. He'd gotten the tickets on a whim, a spur of the moment purchase because of a shockingly persuasive kid standing and yelling at the corner of a nearby building advertising the thing. Even when he had been buying the damn tickets he didn't expect Freed to agree to the suggestion, and yet two days later he found himself in a private box, watching Cleopatra's Night at the Neapolitan Opera with his most recently hired employee and newly appointed criminal consultant beside him.

He was making a conscious effort not to think about why he'd offered the ticket to Freed of all people, and why Freed had agreed so easily. To achieve this, he put all his focus on the show. But that wasn't easy given his lack of passion for opera, and with the intermission looming he only had a vague idea about what was actually happening. There was Cleopatra, obviously, as well as some maids and a lion hunter obsessed with the queen. It was all very… dramatic. And the lion hunter pissed Laxus off; who would let themselves be murdered just so he could sleep with a woman?

Freed seemed to share the opinion, as pretty much every time the hunter walked onto the stage Freed would either roll his eyes, mutter under his breath or shuffle in his seat in apparent boredom.

"He ain't your type, huh?" Laxus whispered, their private box meaning nobody could hear them.

"Obsessive, overdramatic, no sense of boundaries and constantly cruel to a woman for no reason? You might have to hold me back from storming the stage and taking him here and now," Freed murmured sarcastically.

Laxus chuckled. Over the past few weeks he had spent a lot of time with Freed, as he'd turned from just his pianist into his official criminal advisor. The shift from a distrustful antagonism with a hint of teasing to a genuine friendship had been shockingly easy.

Most nights, after Freed had played to his crowd of adoring subjects, he would climb to the office and offer Laxus advice and his expertise on issues Laxus might have faced. Often times this wasn't needed as such – Laxus knew what he was doing most of the time, and Freed's advice more supplemented his actions than guided them completely – but those talks were good. Freed was quick witted and had a morbid droll to him. Teasing the man had been fun, but sharing a joke and balking out a laugh with him was a noticeable improvement.

Freed might have agreed, as he seemed more comfortable in his position now. This new found security in his job had brought out the arrogant man that he'd first been when he'd stormed into Laxus' house that night. He was cocky, and it was fun to spar with him.

"Though the actor does seem familiar," Freed commented, leaning forward slightly as he watched the stage. "I think I may have kissed him in a club a few years back. What's his name?"

"Erm," Laxus looked at the playbill in his hand. "Rufus Lore."

"Yes, that's him. A little annoying really," Freed chuckled. "He tried to convince me I was his first kiss, which might have worked had we not frequented the same clubs. Quite often I'd watch him sneaking into a back room with a man he'd enraptured; he got quite the reputation."

"And you still kissed him?"

"I wanted to see what the fuss was about," Freed shrugged. "I still don't understand, he was average at best. Maybe he's just well-endowed."

Laxus laughed and let out a quiet 'fucks sake.' As they'd developed a friendship of sorts, Laxus had made an effort to show how little he cared for Freed's fondness of men. He sometimes brought it up, mainly in companionable jest, and Freed seemed comfortable to speak of it without care. And in the few instances where the topic would arise with any seriousness, Laxus would be careful with his words and make sure not to cause any offense.

This was mainly to make sure his friend felt comfortable with him; Laxus' grandfather had drilled into him that some laws were pathetically stupid and immoral, and that people were who they were. These were views that Laxus kept close to his heart.

There was also a small hope that being blindly accepting of Freed might plant the seed that Laxus shared his inclination. It was a lot easier than having the conversation.

Laxus hated that conversation.

He pushed that thought to then back of his mind – as he did with the thoughts of Freed's past dalliances with men – and instead, put his focus on the show before him. It was still fairly tedious to watch, and the hunter grated on his nerves. But Freed kept up his murmured commentary, and it made the show a little more bearable.

A little while later, the lights of the opera house raised, signalling the beginning of the intermission. Both men stood and walked from their private box and towards the lobby, where a bar went unused for anything other than soft drinks. Many people were standing around, all of whom seemed to be very wealthy and very interested in the show they had been watching. Laxus would bet a good few dollar that most of them didn't care about the show and only came because they wanted to sound intellectual and well cultured, and that grated on Laxus' nerves slightly. Rich assholes.

"Wanna get a smoke outside?" He offered Freed. "Less cramped than in here?"

"I don't smoke," Freed replied. "But I can join you."

They both left the lobby and walked to the front staircase of the opera house. They leant against the stone wall of the staircase, Laxus making sure he was downwind of Freed so that the smoke from his cigars wouldn't blow into his face. He pulled his cigars from their case, struck a match, and lit it. As he smoked, his eyes lingered to Freed, who stood in the moonlight with a great sense of belonging. He seemed in his element for the first time since Laxus had seen him, other than when he was playing at night.

"You been here before?" He asked.

"What makes you think that? You assume I have friends in the theatre?" Freed smirked, and Laxus chuckled at the reference to the ridiculous analogy used to describe gay men.

"I know you do, you just told me you kissed the star of the show," Laxus chuckled, after making sure nobody was in ear shot of course. "And the reason I was askin' is because you look like you belong in a place like that. High culture, shit like that."

"Most of the people I associated with were in the arts in some capacity. Poets, actors, painters; those sorts mainly. Of course there was the occasional criminal who made things a little interesting, but most of my friends were what you might consider cultured," Freed mused aloud. "Though I think what really grouped them all together was their willingness to leave my life entirely when I lost my money. Shocking, isn't it?"

Laxus chuckled, but didn't speak. He took a drag of his cigar and looked down the busy streets of New York. It was spitting rain, though not heavy enough for him to care, and the flickering street lamps reflected in the puddles starting to form. Laxus had always liked the rain.

"Why did you bring me here tonight?" Freed asked, and Laxus looked to him in surprise.

"Because you've been helpin' me out a lot, and I thought you'd enjoy it," Laxus shrugged, taking another drag of the cigar, and slowly letting the smoke stream from his lips. "And I never had the money to do anythin' like this before, and I wanted to see what it was like. Saw it as an opportunity to get two things done at once."

Freed took a moment before speaking again. "I almost believe you."

"Why almost?"

"Because you're not meeting my eye," Freed supplied. "And you always meet my eye when you're being honest. A habit you really should get out of, given your propensity to make hollow threats, but that's beside the point. Why are we really here?"

Laxus couldn't be fully honest, but he could answer the question somewhat.

"There's been… We never really got into the crime world more than we had to. People thought we did – thought we were blackmailing one half of the police force and pointing guns at the others – but most of the illegal things we did was just getting the booze and selling it. We just made sure never to correct people when they thought we were dangerous" Laxus sighed. "But with your help, we're getting further into it. And it's working out well, so doesn't think I ain't grateful, but there's a lot more to think about. Just had a lot of stress I suppose; wanted to have a break from it all."

"That makes sense," Freed nodded slightly. "And why me? Not that I don't appreciate it, but being alone would be cheaper. And a man such as yourself could have any woman he wanted on his arm, and any other part of his body I dare say. And you're not short of women around you, many of them willing by the looks of it."

Laxus made a conscious effort to ignore the 'man such as yourself' comment.

"You must have realised that, in these circles, there are men who know me. Know of my fondness's as well," Freed continued, and Laxus' eyes flickered to him again. "It's entirely likely that they'll see a man with me, and make assumptions."

"Let 'em think what they think. They'll either not know who I am, and in that case it doesn't matter what they think, or they will know, and they'll probably be shit scared of me," Laxus shrugged.

He watched as Freed's brows tightened slightly, and his eyes flickered over Laxus' face inquisitively. Laxus didn't say anything, because he knew that most men wouldn't be so flippant about being mistaken for a lover of other men. And, as Laxus didn't want to have the conversation about why he didn't bat an eyelid about people making that assumption, he instead let Freed's mind wonder in the hopes he would come to the conclusion himself.

Freed might also understand the other reason they were here together. The reason Laxus wasn't ready to admit to just yet, not even to himself.

"Very well," Freed said, a level of surety in his voice now. "I've had a delightful time, no matter what the reason. You're good company."

"So are you," Laxus parroted, and grinned at Freed over his cigar.

"And by the sounds of it, I seem proficient in distracting you," Freed smirked, and Laxus felt his face flush lightly.

Freed chuckled, patted Laxus' arm with a slightly too firm hand, and said he would see Laxus at their seats. As he turned and walked away, Laxus found it impossible for his eyes to stray from his retreating figure, in the expensive velvet tuxedo that complimented his angular form in the moonlight. Only when the man was back in the building could Laxus look away, and he took another drag of his cigar with a very light quiver in his breath.

"You've no fuckin' idea," He muttered as he blew out a final puff of smoke.

* * *

_**~3 Months Later~** _

Freed had his eyes closed as his fingers danced across the keys before him. Fairy Tail's piano was a beautiful thing – large, polished, made of mahogany wood, with its mechanisms open for all to see – and Freed had grown to love playing it after months of his new employ.

The entire sensation was indescribable. Before joining Fairy Tail he hadn't played often, given his father's dissatisfaction for him doing anything he deemed to be feminine or artistic. When he first joined the tavern he'd been somewhat stilted while performing, talents rusty from disuse. But as he spent more time playing, refining the art, the more he enjoyed it. The feel of the keys pushing against his fingers, the vibrations of the sounds against his legs, the thrumming effect on his heart. It was an incredible feeling, and one he was addicted to.

Which was why it was perhaps childish to use it to drown out the teasing of his friends.

"We can wait," Bickslow sang over the loud music filling the speakeasy. He was standing beside the piano with his arms crossed, grinning. Freed continued playing, pushing his fingers against the keys with more effort.

"You'll get tired eventually, you know," Evergreen added, leaning on the side of the piano.

The musical stalemate lasted a few moments longer, partly because Freed knew there was an inevitability in the situation and partly because his fingers were starting to cramp. He finished the tune with perhaps more of a flourish than he needed to – it was just the three of them there, after all – and looked at his two friends' amused expressions with boredom. They both grinned at his expectantly.

"What 'cha hiding from us, Freed?" Bickslow began, smiling.

"Nothing," Freed lied.

He really didn't think his secret – if it could be called that – was really anything of note. It was his birthday, something he didn't particularly care about because he wasn't ten years old. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone, mainly because a month prior it had been Erza's birthday, and they had celebrated with a party that was far too loud and obnoxious for Freed's liking. He didn't want something like that for himself, so he had kept the event quiet.

How Bickslow and Evergreen had picked up on the fact Freed was hiding something, he didn't know. He used to pride himself on having an impeccable poker face, but they'd seen through it. Being in Fairy Tail, an environment where lying wasn't commonplace, must have made him complacent. He was slipping.

Or maybe he was just more effected by the day than he'd wanted. It was his first birthday without being with his family and, despite the fact most of them were obnoxious assholes – which was a very kind way to phrase it really – they were still his family. Rather than a lavish, somewhat awkward dinner at an expensive restaurant, he would be working for most of the night and returning to his tiny boarding house simply to sleep. Perhaps the lack of the usual pomp and circumstance was bothering him more than he'd wanted, and it was obvious on his face.

Not that he wanted fuss. He wouldn't be keeping the day a secret if he did. It was just unusual, that was all.

"Then why were you playing while we tried to talk to you?" Evergreen asked, pushing off the piano when Freed moved from the seat and towards the table they often frequented.

"I need to keep myself sharp, I was practicing," Freed shrugged. It wasn't technically untrue. "You too should perhaps try it."

"You know," Bickslow said, and Freed could hear amusement in his voice. "You're right. We should."

Before Freed could say anything, a large hand grabbed his arm. A moment later Bickslow's bodyweight was pushing down on Freed, and his other hand was on the back of Freed's head. His cheek was slammed against the table with a loud and echoing thud, and Freed grunted as his side was pushed roughly against the side of the furniture. He narrowed his eyes as his face was pushed into a puddle of spilled beer, and he struggled to get out of the large man's grasp.

"You tell me what I wanna know or I'll bash your knees in, pretty boy," Bickslow growled into Freed's ear, voice darker and gravellier than normal. The effect was ruined slightly by the giggle that followed.

"Go ahead," Freed grunted, calling Bickslow's bluff as he pushed up against the hand holding him down. He still couldn't move; Bickslow was good at this. "Though I doubt you will, so get off me."

"Fine," Bickslow chuckled, removed his hands from Freed and allowing him to stand upright again. He grinned at the glare he received. "You're right I guess. I mean, what would the boss say if his favourite got hurt and it was because of me? He'd go mad."

Freed gave him a levelled, unimpressed look. The idea that he was in some way Laxus' favourite was something that had spread quickly throughout Fairy Tail, and almost every staff member seemed to enjoy mocking Freed with it. He didn't particularly understand where the idea Laxus preferred him came from, other than perhaps they spent a lot of time together given his position of Laxus' advisor. Just because they talked a lot didn't mean he was treated differently, though.

He'd tried explaining this, but Evergreen brought up the opera tickets. And the letter of recommendation sent to his landlord. And the bi-weekly trips to restaurants so his criminal solicitation wasn't always in the office.

They might have had something of a point…

But Laxus was kind to all of his employees. It was entirely possible that Laxus gave the same level of attention to everyone else, and Freed was mocked because his pride made his reactions entertaining. The excuse was flimsy at best, but Freed decided to believe it.

As he went to say something in argument, the door to the speakeasy opened and light flickered in. All three of them looked over just in case a drunk or criminal walked into the bar unknowingly and needed persuasion to leave. However, when they sat it was Laxus, they removed their hands from their weapons. Freed was quick to give Bickslow a warning glance as he turned back to his drink; Bickslow just grinned back at him widely.

"You three alright?" Laxus asked as he walked towards them.

"We're fine, just taking some time before we start work," Freed spoke first, before either of his companions could bring Laxus into their discussion. "You're not normally hear at this time. Nothing's wrong, I hope."

"Nah, was just getting sick of being at home; Gramps just keeps talking, gets to be too much. Might as well get some work done," Laxus shrugged.

He went on to keep walking, but as he looked at Freed he frowned and stopped. The two men looked at one another, Freed confused as to why Laxus' eyes were flickering over his face.

He watched wordlessly as Laxus took a step forward and slowly, gently brought his finger to Freed's cheek and stroked it with a knuckle.

Freed froze, Bickslow sniggered, Evergreen muttered a quiet 'oh my god', and Laxus brought his slight wet finger to his nose to sniff; he winced a little at the scent of harsh booze.

"Why've you got the cheap shit on your cheek?" He asked, looking to Freed.

"Well," Freed forced out, blinking away whatever emotion Laxus' gentle touch had stirred up inside him. "Your employee decided to test out his intimidation techniques on me. Apparently coating me with my spilled drink is part of that."

"You're still drinking this?" Laxus asked, flicking the cheap alcohol off his finger. "You know you can have whatever you want, right? I ain't gonna get pissed if you take the top shelf stuff."

"I like the moonshine," Freed shrugged, slightly lying.

Laxus rolled his eyes, walked from the table that the three were sitting at and leant over the bar. Freed watched Laxus as he pulled out a single, unopened bottle of what seemed to be port, purposefully ignoring the chuckling coming from Evergreen and the leg nudges from Bickslow below the table. Laxus walked back, placing the large bottle of high-end port onto the table in front of Freed, either unaware or uncaring to the teasing Freed was forced to endure.

"This is yours," Laxus informed Freed, and the pianist frowned towards the bottle. "I know you're a port drinker, and this is a good label, so don't act like you don't want it. Leave the crap for the cheaper customers."

"You needn't do that," Freed began, tensing at the barely held giggles from his friends. "I'm perfectly fine with-"

"It's a gift," Laxus shrugged, grinning. "It's what you give people on their birthday, isn't it?"

Freed paused, then blinked. "How did you-"

"It's my job to know," Laxus shrugged. "Now, yer gonna make the most of your present and have a good drink before you get to work. You're not gonna share it with these freeloading asshats who look like they're having some kind of fit for some fucking reason," Freed glanced to Bickslow and Evergreen, who were red with restrained laughter. "And I doubt you wanted a party but tough shit. Mirajane's baking a cake and once we're done for the night we're gonna toast ya and your just gonna have to deal with it. That a problem?"

"Would it matter if it was?" Freed asked, resignedly amused.

"Not a bit," Laxus laughed. He began to walk towards his office, but paused and looked back. "Oh, and I'm pretty sure that half the customers come here 'cause the pianist has a pretty face. So wash up; boss's orders."

He walked away before anyone at the table could speak.

Freed watched him go, before turning and looking at the bottle of port that remained untouched. As had often happened with Laxus, Freed found himself looking back on a conversation to understand what had actually been said. The blonde was like a whirlwind in many ways, and Freed seemed to be captured in his draw very often.

Had he stroked Freed's cheek? And how had he known that it was Freed's birthday? And had he just called Freed pretty? It had all been so nonchalant, as if it were second nature for Laxus, and Freed almost thought he might have imagined it all.

"Oh yeah," Bickslow laughed after a moment. "We're all the same to him. No favourites here."

That was how the rest of the day went for Freed, with Bickslow and Evergreen teasing him; a few other members of the bar also joined in when the opportunity arose. He took the jokes as well as he could, which was somewhat difficult given that both the bottle of port and the slight flushing on his cheeks acted as constant reminders of what Laxus had done.

Once his night of playing was over and the bar closed to the public, a cake was presented to him. Nobody sang, and the party was on a much smaller scale than it had been for everyone else, but enough of a fuss was made of Freed for him to almost forget Laxus' actions. Almost.

As he walked to his boarding house, he found himself replaying the moments through his head again and again. The gentle touch of Laxus' shockingly soft knuckles against his skin was tantalising, and the ease with which he complimented Freed was so… unusual.

Laxus presented himself to be a man's man, always in control and a symbol of strength for those who needed it. Freed had known men like that, he'd been with men like that, and they'd always seen compliments as a sign of weakness. Laxus clearly didn't see it like that, and although Freed considered himself more handsome than pretty, having a man like Laxus compliment him so unabashedly was thrilling.

Freed would posture that anything Laxus did would be thrilling; Laxus was that type of man.

And he had to believe that Laxus wouldn't mind. Because, as much as Freed denied it, Laxus' treatment of him was hardly platonic. Platonic men didn't take other men to the opera. Platonic men didn't stroke other men's cheeks for no reason. Platonic men didn't flip their opinions on other men so quickly. If he were a romantic, he might say Laxus was treating him like he'd treat someone during courtship.

He might say he'd enjoy it, were he more honest with himself.

Before he could fixate on that thought, he pushed open the door to his boarding house, locking it behind him and was met by a glare form his landlady: Porlyusica.

"You're late," The old woman grunted. "I nearly locked you out."

"And I'm grateful that you didn't," Freed said placatingly. The small room he rented was the best he could get, and he couldn't risk alienating her. "I assume I will be paying you a little more rent this month as to not encourage this behaviour."

"You will," She agreed. She stood up from her rocking chair, picking something up from a sideboard and offering it to Freed. It was an envelope with his name written on it in cursive. "For you."

"Thank you," Freed smiled. "Goodnight Porlyusica."

The woman grunted in response, and Freed climbed the staircase to get to his rented room. He closed the door behind him and bolted it, looking around the small living room and bedroom combination, before collapsing into the armchair.

He relaxed for a moment before glancing to the envelope he'd been given. His stomach dropped as he looked at it, dread filling him. The handwriting was instantly recognisable to him.

It was his father's writing.

Any glimmer of optimism that had grown during his time in Fairy Tail died instantly.

Dread rushed through him, hands shaking ever so slightly as he opened the envelope. His father couldn't know where he lived; he just couldn't. Freed had done everything he could to avoid any of his family or their employees finding him. He lived on the opposite side of New York so nobody would stumble across him, he walked home through side streets and winding paths as not to be followed, and he made sure his payments to Porlyusica always were without a contract so he couldn't be traced. For heaven's sake, he even made a point to avoid the streetlights so that he couldn't be seen. And it had all been for nothing.

He opened the envelope with trepidation, to see a cheap looking birthday card inside. He read and reread the small message inside multiple times, blood freezing as he tensed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, his breath slightly shaky now.

_'My Dear Son. I Will See You Soon. Your Loving Father.'_

* * *

_**~One Week Later~** _

Laxus had never been held at gunpoint. It felt almost aethereal.

He'd thought about it. As a career criminal, making dangerous enemies with murderous intent was an occupational hazard. Being a so-called rising name in the criminal world meant ruffling the feathers of powerful and dangerous people, many of whom had a propensity to violence. It had seemed almost inevitable that he'd push someone over the edge at some point, and that it would end up with a gun being pointed to his head.

Whenever he had thought about it, he expected that he'd be calm and collected. That he'd be okay, because he knew that nobody would actually shoot him because it was too big of a risk. That he'd be able to smooth things out and nobody would need to get hurt; and if someone did get hurt it sure as fuck wouldn't be him.

The reality was less heroic. It was more… terrifying.

He was, to his credit, not showing his fear. He sat in his office chair, looking at the two men aiming guns in his direction. He leant back, trying to seem as though he was nonchalant and unbothered by the threat, but his blood was rushing and his adrenaline thrumming through his mind as if a scream in his ears. His foot bounced slightly under the desk, as it was the only way to dismiss the fearful energy flowing through him. It was either that, or let the people threatening to kill him see his hands shaking with every movement.

"Where is he?" One of the men – tall, maroon-brown hair, with a scar over his eye – demanded in a growl.

"Who?" Laxus retorted, voice not shaking.

"You know damn well who," The man snarled back, pushing the gun forward an inch.

He did know, of course. He'd seen the large, white car pulling up in front of the bar, and he'd recognised it easily. It was one of the many overly expensive cars owned by the Justine Family's highest-ranking associates. When the men left their car, he'd taken the few spare moments to rush down and push his remaining staff members out through the back door without explanation. Thankfully, it was late enough in the night for only two people to still be in the bar, other than Laxus.

But it was obvious who they wanted. Freed. Why they wanted him, Laxus didn't know, but he could guess by their expressions that it wouldn't be for good. And the idea of turning Freed over to these men, with their snarling teeth and readied guns, sent a protective rush through him he hadn't felt before.

He wouldn't let them near him. He wouldn't.

"He ain't here," Laxus grunted back. "And if he was, he ain't gonna go with you."

"He'll go where we tell him to," The other man, a tall, blonde man spoke up. Laxus looked towards him, but stopping from moving when the barrel of the gun pressed against the side of his head. "Unless you wanna trouble him with disposing of ya body, blondie."

"Well he ain't here," Laxus growled, anger mixing with his fear. "So fuck off."

"And leave you to warn him," The scarred man chuckled. "Nah. I'll go see the little queer, and my friend here is gonna make sure you don't move, and if either of you piss me off, then he's gonna give this office a nice new paint job. You understand?"

If the threat wasn't obvious, the blonde man pushed the gun against Laxus' temple with more force, and Laxus tensed.

"Fuckers," He growled, and the scarred man laughed. "I should take that gun and shove it up yer-"

He paused.

They all did, and even the press of the gun against his head relented slightly. From the lower level of the building, where the main hall of the tavern was, music was being played. Loud, unabashedly confident and very familiar to Laxus' ears; it was undoubtedly Freed's music. A new rush of dread ran over him, because his own life being at risk was bad enough, but to have Freed in the same building as the men who wanted to abduct him, and possibly kill him for all Laxus knew, was terrifying in a way that Laxus couldn't quantify.

The music echoed through the silent room, the pleasant tone completely at odds with the tense fear that was almost palpable. Laxus silently prayed that somehow Freed would stop, that he'd be somehow aware of the danger he was in and would run for the hills, but that wouldn't happen. The reality of the situation suddenly hit Laxus; both he and Freed were in danger. They could die.

"Up," The scarred man demanded, flicking his gun up slightly.

Laxus did as he was told, and the gun against his head moved to his lower back. He was pushed out of his office, and forced to walk down the staircase, Freed's music getting louder the closer to the piano he got.

When he saw the man, dread filled him. Freed's eyes were closed, and his head swaying gently as it often did when he was caught up in the rhythm of a song. Laxus looked on in horror, because not only did Freed not seem to know the danger he was in, he also didn't seem at all prepared for it. Why couldn't he just open his eyes and run, there was enough time. He probably couldn't even hear them approaching, the sound of his music too overpowering to his ears. Laxus didn't know what to do.

Why was Freed even there? He had left nearly half an hour ago, he should be back in boarding house by now, not here. Even though they apparently knew where he lived – which was a worry itself – at least if he was there he'd only be dealing with one of them.

Maybe Laxus could fight them off. It was a risk, but he was bigger than them both. He could overpower the blonde one, maybe take his gun and shoot the other. It could work.

Or maybe if he tried, he'd be shot. Or Freed would be shot.

Panic overtook every good sense he had, and despite his need to do something, anything, that could take both him and Freed out of danger, he could only walk. He was taken to the middle of the tavern floor, and looked on in fear as the gun was pushed into his spine with nearly enough force to make his knees buckle. Freed was still playing the damned piano and Laxus thought through all the things that he could have done that would have stopped the situation from happening if he'd known. He would have dealt with the two invaders while he had the chance, he would have locked the damn front door so Freed couldn't get in, he would have smashed the fucking piano with a sledgehammer if it meant this wouldn't happen.

The sound of music slowly fading away cut through the spiralling panic that he was feeling, and Laxus' eyes flickered to see Freed was looking at him with concern. The expression only lasted for a moment, before he looked at the two men: one pressing a gun into Laxus' back, the other pointing his gun at Freed.

"Sawyer, Erik," Freed said calmly, and he smiled at them. "How pleasant it is to see you both."

"We don't go by those names anymore," The blonde growled, and Laxus felt the gun push further into his back.

"Well I'm certainly not going to call you Racer and Cobra, am I?" Freed chuckled, still sitting behind the piano. "You're grown adult men, not stooges in a low budget comedy show. You should start acting like it."

"Motherfucker," The man, Sawyer apparently, muttered harshly.

"You're gonna come with us," The other man, Erik, demanded as he took a step forward. The gun remained pointed directly at Freed's face, and Freed maintained his pleasant smile as the violator approached. "Your father wants to see you."

"I don't believe I have a father," Freed tilted his head as if confused. "I lost that right when he disowned me. He made that quite clear."

"We'll kill him if you don't," Erik threatened, and the gun was pushed with force into Laxus back.

The sudden harsh movement took Laxus by surprise, and his legs buckled with the strain. He fell to his knees and before he could do anything about it, and Sawyer's gun was pressed against the back of his head. Laxus glared down at the floor, pissed that he'd allowed himself to fall so easily. His eyes flickered to Freed, who had lost his slightly amused expression and replaced it with one of seriousness.

It was a heavy expression, one that seemed to tell Laxus that he wouldn't allow anything to happen to him. A pathetic level of comfort came from that, even if Laxus felt he should be the one assuring Freed, not the other way around.

"Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything," Freed mused a moment later, looking at the man holding a gun to Laxus' head. "You've finally got a man on his knees for you, Sawyer. Though not for lack of trying."

"I ain't like you," Sawyer growled, and Laxus shot Freed a look as the gun pushed his head down further.

"Please, if I'd given you the slightest attention you would have done anything I asked," Freed chuckled, leaning back in the stool he was sitting on. "I could have clicked my fingers and you would have come to heel."

"I am not one of you," Sawyer repeated, and his tone told Laxus his entire body was tensed.

"Well, it's either that, or you just have a great fascination for my legs and the front of my trousers," Freed taunted, and Laxus hoped to god that he knew what he was doing. Because fear was rushing through Laxus, hammering at him like a siren now. "Not that I'd indulge you, of course. From what I've heard, you're driving isn't the only thing that's over before it begins. I suppose calling yourself Racer is quite accurate. Though I'd wager 'Quickdraw' might be a little more succinct in getting the message across."

"Racer," Erik interrupted quietly, in a warning tone.

"Mother fucker!" Sawyer snarled.

Laxus found himself pushed to the ground, and he looked up as Sawyer walked over him and stormed towards Freed, the gun now pointing at the other man. Laxus scrambled to stand up, but glanced towards Erik to see that now he was aiming at Laxus. The blonde froze, because Erik now had his hand on the trigger, and he could easily pull it before Laxus could do anything.

But he had to do something. Because apparently Freed's plan had been to annoy Sawyer to the point where he left Laxus alone, which had worked. But now Sawyer was pissed off at Freed, holding a weapon and advancing on his with speed. Laxus glanced towards him, dread flooding him again at the very real possibility that Sawyer might use the weapon on Freed. And Laxus hadn't been able to stop it from happening, he hadn't been able to protect the man he was falling for and he might die and Laxus would have to watch and-

An ear-splitting sound attacked Laxus' ears. Only a moment later, Laxus realised it was a gunshot.

He breathed raggedly, terror overpowering the ringing in his ears. It hadn't been Erik's gun, or Laxus would have been shot. Which meant it had been Sawyers, which had been pointing towards Freed.

Freed.

Fuck. Shit!

Laxus stumbled to his feet, not caring if Erik saw this as justification for shooting. He staggered towards the piano, only to stop in his tracks when he saw Sawyer doubled over, screeching in pain, and leaning against the instrument for support. Laxus looked down to see blood staining Sawyers trousers, a little below the knee. When Laxus looked up again, Freed was holding a gun of his own, glaring unsympathetically at Sawyer while advancing on him. The look on his face was without emotion, Laxus might consider it to be murderous in its calm.

"Bastard!" Sawyer yelled.

Freed continued walking, and Laxus watched as Freed kicked the gun that had fallen to the floor away. He looked down at Sawyer, who was openly crying as he looked at his gunshot wound, and then to Erik, who was flicking his weapon between the two men. When Freed aimed at Erik, the criminal aimed back.

"You are going to leave this place," Freed said, with a level of calculated authority that Laxus hadn't heard from the man. It was intense, angry, and powerful. "And you will tell my father to leave me alone."

"No," Erik demanded back.

"Then I will kill you," Freed growled, and the seriousness in his tone sent a worried chill down Laxus' spine. "And I will use your corpses as a clear message to my father."

Laxus watched the stalemate with wide eyes, the two men aiming guns at one another. Laxus went to move, but the half step he took was enough to have Erik's gun aimed at him. He froze, and slowly the gun panned towards Freed again. Laxus was half tempted to get the attention back on him, at least that way Freed would be at less of a risk.

The few seconds where he thought Freed had been shot were hell. Laxus couldn't think of another word to describe it, but he wouldn't risk it again.

"You ain't got the balls to kill someone," Erik snarled. "You're just the prissy little son."

Freed, still wearing a mask of stoic calmness, started to walk towards Erik with his gun outstretched. Laxus watched, eyes wide as his pianist walked so that he was in Erik's personal space. The blonde's breath caught when he watched Freed move his head down, so that Erik's pistol was pushing against his forehead. If Erik pulled the trigger, Freed would be dead. There was no doubt; why the hell had Freed done that?

"Why don't we see who's really serious," Freed said, deadly calm, pressing his own gun against Erik's forehead. "Because we both know how that will end up."

Laxus didn't dare move, watching as Freed pushed himself further forward, Erik's gun pressed against his forehead. Freed clearly forced Erik to maintain eye contact, almost trapping the other man's gaze, and Laxus watched with bated breath as the stalemate reignited, hoping to god that Freed knew what he was doing because Laxus was terrified. If Erik shot, then Freed would die and Laxus would only be able to watch and he couldn't deal with that. He just couldn't.

A slight clattering to his left caught Laxus attention. He flicked his head over to see Sawyer slowly crawling across the floor, blood trailing behind him. He was clearly going towards his discarded gun, and Laxus moved before thinking. He couldn't let another weapon be involved in the situation.

He walked forward and slammed the man's head into the floor.

Sawyer stopped moving, clearly knocked out, and Laxus would have been lying if he said that the feeling of violence wasn't a little cathartic. But he couldn't distract himself, so he looked to the stalemate again, to see that neither of the two men had moved. Laxus took a small level of relief from the fact that it hadn't gotten worse, but that was a cold comfort.

"As I said," Freed spoke again, voice venom now. "You are going to leave. You'll take Sawyer with you. And you will tell my father that, unless he wishes for his men to be killed and left on his doorstep, he will leave me, and the people in this tavern, the hell alone. Do you understand me?"

There was silence, and Laxus felt as though he couldn't breathe.

With a snarl, Erik stepped back and removed his gun from Freed's forehead. Freed kept his aim steady, even as Erik placed his gun under his belt again.

Laxus let out a silent, haggard breath of relief, feeling somewhat safe for the first time since he had seen their car parking outside the tavern. He was still tense and wary though, because Erik was still there and he still had a gun with him, even if he had removed it from sight.

There was silence as Erik looked down at the slowly breathing Sawyer, before picking him up and placing him over his shoulder. Freed maintained his aim as he motioned for him to leave, which Erik moved to do. He spat at the floor as he left.

Both men followed Erik, Freed still holding his gun towards him. They watched in silence as Erik tossed the man in the back seat, before climbing into the driver's seat and driving off, glaring at them both as he did so.

Once he was out of sight, and they were safe, anger exploded in Laxus.

"What the fuck were you thinking!" Laxus shouted, turning to Freed and glaring at him with sudden fury. Freed looked at him as he placed his gun in his jacket pocket, squaring his shoulders. "Did you not realise they were there, or are you just fucking stupid? What the fuck were you even doing here?"

"I left my wallet here, so I came to return it," Freed explained, and Laxus noted a tenseness in his jaw. "And of course I knew they were here; I know Sawyer's car."

"Then why the fuck did you come inside?" Laxus yelled, voice snarling in a protective rage. "Why didn't you use your fucking brain and run the hell away? You can't be that fucking stupid that you thought they were here for a good reason. Did you not even take a second to think they might wanna hurt you? For fucks sake, you played a fucking song. Did you wanna taunt them into killing you? Wanna make yourself feel like a big man before they shot you in the chest? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I was thinking, Laxus, that I might be better equipped to deal with the situation than you," Freed growled back, and his tone was almost as venomous as it had been when speaking with Erik. "I thought that you were a naive danger to yourself who knows nothing of violence compared to me, and that I'd rather be there to help than let you get killed through inaction."

"You pushed his gun to your head," Laxus growled. "You were inviting him to kill you!"

"I was calling his bluff," Freed snarled back. "He wouldn't kill anyone in my family, disowned or otherwise. He's a coward, as is Sawyer. I'm surprised father sent them of all people, I expected better."

"You expected this!"

"My father knows where I live," Freed snapped. "It was a matter of time."

"Why the fuck didn't you think to tell me?" Laxus demanded.

"I didn't expect him to send people here," Freed grunted. "I assumed he'd deal with it at my home."

"I don't give a shit that it happened in the bar, Freed," Laxus yelled again, anger and exasperation in his tone. "I care that he sent a gunman to get you, I care that he wants you back and he seems willing to hurt and kill people to do it, I care that you could have been shot in there. Fucks sake, what if you didn't shoot Sawyer in time and he got a shot off on you. I couldn't have fucking saved you from that, but if you told me he's after you I could have done something!"

"You seem to forget something, Laxus," Freed said, voice low now. "I am not yours to protect. I am not an innocent man who has been dragged into this life by happenstance. I was brought into it from birth and I know it a hell of a lot better than you do."

"That doesn't mean that I can't protect you," Laxus growled.

"I do not need protection, Mr Dreyar," Freed spoke through gritted teeth. "If you remember correctly, you were the one on your knees. You were the one with a gun to the back of his head. You were the one who froze up. Not me. That is not the first hostage situation I have been in, both as a hostage myself and as a perpetrator. That is not the first time I have shot a man, nor will it be the last I expect. And these things should serve as a reminder, Mr Dreyar, that in the area of crime, I am your superior in every damn way. I am not your damsel to save."

With glare, Freed stormed past him.

Laxus was now left alone.

He found himself unable to process what had just happened, a mix of anger and relief and offense flooding through him and stopping his mind from working. He could only watch as Freed stormed from the alleyway they had argued in, walking in the direction of his boarding house with purposeful, precise movements.

Once he was out of sight, Laxus deflated, slid down a wall, and closed his eyes.

"Fuck," Laxus exhaled shakily. It was all he could think of saying, the perfect summation of his night. "Fuck."


	3. ACTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Laxus found himself sitting at an opera with a man he never expected to like, Freed received both a gift from a man he was growing fond of and a card from a man he hated, and a dangerous situation ended with an argument between friends.

**Chapter Three – Action**

_**~Four Days Later~** _

Freed loved music, he was almost addicted to it.

He was not a materialistic man, and if the situation called for it he could probably live his life out of a suitcase. But the one exception to that minimalistic lifestyle came in the form of his fondness for music.

This was evident in how he decorated his boarding house. Though the walls were mainly bare, he had many sideboards and shelves filled with the near hundreds of records that he had collected over the years, all of which he had listened to many times. In the centre of the room sat the large armchair which he lounged in, with the expensive gramophone sitting on the table beside it. Beside his bed lay the empty sleeve of the record he was currently listening to, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling as the soft sound of a smooth jazz band tickled his ears.

Music was good for many things, distraction being one of them.

Because, whenever he had allowed his mind to wonder over the past few days, his emotions had overthrown him. It was a mixture of anger, resentment, and annoyance at what Laxus had said to him four nights prior. The patronising insistence that Laxus should be the one saving Freed, despite Laxus being in much more danger than Freed had been, had more than ruffled him.

But of course Laxus wouldn't admit that. No, because Laxus was apparently the type of man who needed to prove himself in violent situations. Freed had assumed as much, but had hoped that Laxus would show him enough respect as to not treat him like a victim when he wasn't. But Laxus had condescended him, treated him as if he were the only person in danger, and disregarded the fact Freed had been the one to get them both out of the bar. For god's sake he'd done it without anyone on their side getting hurt, that was almost unheard of in those situations. It had ended as well as it could have, and Laxus had yelled at him like he was a teenager caught drinking.

There was also a touch of guilt when he thought back. He shouldn't have mocked Laxus for freezing up. Freed had done the same thing when first threatened with death. That had been cruel.

Hence, a distraction was welcome.

The sound of music filling his room was complimented by the heavy rain battering against the windows. Every few minutes, a crackle of lightning erupted across the sky, light slipping through his closed curtains. Freed had always been fond of storms, and so when his record ran to an end he didn't move, listening to the weather outside.

He nearly drifted off, yawns overtaking him until a slight clinking sound cut through the thunder and rain.

Then another. And another.

Freed stood up slowly, eyes fluttering open and blinking to get his attention back in the real world. The clinking sound was coming from his window, so he drew back the curtains and searched for the cause. After a moment, his eyes fell on the street below, and standing there was the familiar figure of Laxus Dreyar.

He stood on the sidewalk outside of Freed's boarding house, illuminated by the streetlamp above him, in a state of disrepute that Freed had not seen from the man. He looked a mess. The heavy rain was beating down on him, the suit he wore now sodden and his hair pressing against his head rather than styled with thick oil as it normally was. He looked up towards Freed, and his expression lacked the usual subtle confidence that he showed others. Freed looked down at him for a moment, before sighing, closing the curtains and walking to the door.

He climbed down the stairs, checked that Porlyusica was asleep, and unlocked the front door to the building. He looked outside to see Laxus retreating, apparently having thought Freed's closed curtains were a dismissal.

"Laxus," He said over the sound of the rain, staying in the doorframe as not to get wet. The blonde turned, saw Freed, and jogged to the open door. "What are you doing here?"

"Wanted to see you," Laxus said in explanation, voice a little hesitant. "You ain't been at the tavern."

That was true, Freed had not gone to work for the past four days. Not only did he not want a reminder of why he was angry, he also wanted to make sure he wouldn't do anything he regretted. Freed could be guilty of letting his anger known, and he couldn't risk antagonising Laxus further when he was still reliant on him. Yelling at him in the alleyway was one thing, but if his anger ignited during work hours and he said something regrettable, Laxus could easily fire him, and rightfully so. Staying away from him had seemed to be the smart thing to do.

Looking at Laxus now, a glimmer of the anger ignited, though not as much as he expected. Perhaps it was because Laxus had lost all his bravado, with the rain taking away any impressive façade. The humble expression he wore also seemed to calm Freed slightly.

"Look," Laxus continued. "I need to apologise to you. About what I… could I do this inside? If you don't mind?"

Freed thought for a moment. It would be easy to let the man remain out here, soaking him to the bone as a form of petty revenge. But he wasn't that childish.

"I suppose. Be quiet though, my landlady doesn't like guests."

Laxus nodded, and Freed stepped to the side to let him in. He closed the door, guided Laxus to his upstairs room and allowed him entrance. He closed the door, walking to the washroom and picking up a towel for Laxus to dry himself off as best he could. When he looked to Laxus, the blonde was glancing around at Freed's room with a passive expression.

When he turned to look at Freed, he smiled in thanks at the offered towel. He patted his face down with it, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, before looking around again. He seemed a little lost, and Freed sighed as he sat in his armchair.

"You said you wanted to talk?" Freed suggested.

"Yeah, I did," Laxus agreed, a slight stumble in his tone. Freed remained quiet. "Look, what happened, I weren't in my right mind, I guess I was… I was scared I suppose. Adrenaline rush maybe, I dunno. But well, what I'm trying to say is, the way I treated you wasn't… It was unfair to you, disrespectful. So I thought that I should apologise to you, which is what I'm doing."

Freed chuckled slightly at the fumbling of his words. "And you're doing very well."

"Yeah, words ain't my biggest talent," Laxus sighed, pacing. "Look, you could've died. I was scared that you'd get shot, and you kept taunting them and it was making things worse and-"

"Laxus, those men wouldn't kill me," Freed said calmly. "My father sent them to collect me, not to get rid of me; they would have shot me on sight if they wanted. The worst they would have done is beaten me a little, but the guns would never have been used, and we all knew it. So getting their attention on me was the best way to get you out of harm's way."

"I know. I know that," Laxus conceded, rubbing his face in annoyance. "But after it happened I wasn't thinking straight, and I kept thinking that they might have shot. That all the taunting and teasing you were doing was gonna push one of them over the edge and they were gonna shoot even if they didn't mean to. And I kept thinking about what would happen if they did shoot ya, and then I got pissed because you were fucking goading them into it, and I wouldn't have been able to stop them if they did anything."

"Laxus," Freed spoke carefully, but purposefully. "I don't need protection."

"You don't, I know. It was just… I panicked I guess. Acted out because I didn't wanna see you get hurt," Laxus shook his head a little self-deprecatingly. "I'm sorry. You're a proud man, and you're competent to. I should have known that, and not acted like you weren't. I'm… I'm really sorry, Freed."

The apology lay stagnant in the air.

Freed looked at Laxus, and his expression really was earnest. He suspected that apologies didn't come easy to Laxus – something they'd have in common if true – and so to come here and be more vulnerable than he was comfortable with was commendable. It would be very easy to forgive him then and there, especially because Freed wasn't faultless in the situation, but Freed cut himself off before speaking.

Earnestness from Laxus was rare, as was the lack of his bravado. And Freed wanted to take the chance to talk while he had it.

He stood up, and rather than saying anything, he reached for a record from one of his many shelves. He took it from its sleeve, placed it atop the gramophone, and allowed the soft, slow music to start playing. Laxus had watched him as he moved and when Freed turned to him, he looked at him questioningly.

"Dance with me," Freed requested, offering a hand. Laxus hesitated, so Freed smiled slightly. "I'll let you lead, if you want."

Laxus glanced down at Freed's outstretched hand for a moment, before stepping forward and taking it. Freed met him in the middle, their bodies lighting grazing one another. Freed wrapped an arm around Laxus' waist, and found Laxus' arm doing the same.

They both took a moment to get used to the feeling. Laxus was in his arms, wrapped up in his grasp and looking down at him with an expression that was downright soft. The cold wetness of his clothing was forgotten, and Freed couldn't help but note just how large a man Laxus was. He was firm, unmoving, and yet had a softness to him that could only be shown through his eyes. They stared at one another for a moment before they both began to sway in time to the music.

Neither spoke, and Freed rested his forehead against the blonde's shoulders as the soft piano tune filled his ears. The dampened scent of Laxus' cologne hit Freed's nose, and he smiled a little at the familiarity of it. He felt the slight level of tenseness in Laxus' posture loosen, and he couldn't help but smile further at it.

"I must say," Freed spoke softly, looking to Laxus again. "You're awfully comfortable dancing with a man, I half expected you to be stiff as a board."

"Well, you ain't the first man that I've danced with," Laxus shrugged, and the look he gave Freed was a weighty one. Freed kept his gaze for a moment. "But I ain't danced with a man quite like you before. Don't think I've known a man like you before."

"Should I be insulted?"

"No."

They continued swaying in each other's arms, the music soft and melodic and a perfect complement to the mood. Freed found himself trapped in the other man's gaze, and he felt that Laxus might be in the same situation. Freed didn't care, because in that moment he couldn't think of any better state he could be in.

Laxus was smiling at him now, and Freed tried to remember when he'd last been in a situation like this. Being softly intimate with a handsome charming man who looked at him like Laxus did. With a soft, vulnerable expression. He couldn't remember anyone looking at him like that.

"So," Freed began after a moment. "I'll be blunt. If you could, would you want to court me Laxus?"

Laxus thought for a moment. "Who said I can't?"

"The law."

"The law also says that I can't sell booze, I do that," Laxus smiled down a little at Freed, and the pianist felt his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly. "Bullshit laws don't apply to me. And if you really think that all the shit I've done for you wasn't some attempt at getting your attention, then you're stupider than I give you credit for."

So, Freed's assumption had been correct then. Good.

As had the teasing form all the workers in Fairy Tail, but Freed couldn't think about that right now. He looked up at Laxus with a gentle, uncynical expression, and he felt Laxus' grip around him pull him slightly closer.

"So the opera?" Freed asked. "It was a date of sorts, then?"

"Well, I ain't taking anyone else out for dinner," Laxus shrugged, and the statement was as good as admission. He sighed a little, before speaking again. "I didn't say it, even if I should have, but I kinda started to… fuck this is hard."

"Take your time," Freed said softly.

"I'm crap with words, Freed," Laxus admitted. "Not just words, emotional shit too. It messes me up, I get scared of it. I know you're probably used to men who wear their hearts of their sleeves, and can write poetry for you off the cuff and make you swoon. But when I think about talking about what I'm feeling I get… it's like I shut off," He sighed, and Freed remained quiet. "It makes things harder, y'know. Probably would've been easier if I just said I wanted to take you out because I liked you; not just hoping you'd figure it out. I tried to, a few times, but whenever I did I just froze. It ain't easy for me, stuff like this."

"You're doing well," Freed said gently, and Laxus gave him a small, thankful smile.

"What I'm trying to say is, if we do… if the two of us try and, y'know, make something of us," Laxus cringed at his own words. "I can't be romantic like other men can. I can't do sweeping romantic stuff, it ain't me. If I feel something for ya, I'd show you with what I did, rather than what I said. I mean, I can be emotional, just takes time for me," He looked at the floor for a moment. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, if we tried… if we took the next step, I might not be like the guys you've been with before. I ain't gonna turn into a poet for you."

Freed took a moment to think, then smiled up at the man, removing his hand from Laxus' waist and placing it on his cheek.

"I don't need a poet, Laxus. Nor do I want one," Freed said softly. "All we can ask for, and all I want, is a good man. You are a good man Laxus, and if you show affection through your actions rather than through words, then that is just who you are," He stroked Laxus' jaw with a finger. "A poet is a liar and an exaggerator; a good man is honest. And you have always been honest."

"You sure?" Laxus muttered. "Because I know you come from more than me and-"

"Do not be self-deprecating, it's hardly like you. And whether or not you are worthy of me is my choice to make, and I've already done so," Freed said firmly. "Though I think I should ask, are you sure about me?"

"Why the hell wouldn't I be?" Laxus exclaimed.

"Because if my father finds out about us, he will want you dead," Freed claimed, tone quietly serious. "He sees me working with you as a betrayal, no doubt us getting together will send him into a rage. And he doesn't have the sentimentality to think twice about killing you."

"I don't give a shit," Laxus mumbled into Freed's ear.

"Well I do," Freed retorted firmly. "If he hurts you, it will be my fault. I will not allow that."

Ridiculously, Laxus cracked a smile. "So you're allowed to be protective, huh?"

"Take it seriously."

"I am," Laxus assured him. "The second he sent his men into the bar; I knew I'd have to deal with him. Not just for you, for everyone working for me. You come into my bar as a worker, you're my responsibility and I look after you. And I know that you're the expert in crime, but I ain't stupid. I know what kind of a man he is, and what he's capable of. But he has weaknesses somewhere, and I'm gonna exploit them and bring him down and he ain't gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna let that happen to you."

"I don't need you to-"

"Hey," Laxus cut him off, looking down at him with sincerity. "If we do this, if we get together, I will be protective of you. I will do what I can to keep you safe, I will yell at you if you get reckless, and if there's a choice between the two of us getting hurt, I will make sure it happens to me," He grabbed Freed's chin before he could protest. "And I'm not saying that you can't look after yourself, because you can. I'm just not the kinda man who can sit by if someone they care about is in danger. And I know for a fact that you'd do the same for me, so don't even think about arguing about it," Freed sighed. "I care about you a lot, so I worry. You can't change that."

"I thought you said you were bad with words," Freed chuckled. "But that was actually rather romantic, in an odd sense."

"Maybe you bring it out of me," Laxus shrugged a little.

The conversation mellowed slightly, and the music filled their ears again. It was still a soft piano tune, something that sweethearts would have danced to at the end of a high school dance, and Freed didn't stop the smile from flittering onto his face as he swayed in time with the beat. Laxus' arm was still wrapped around him, and he smiled at the man softly.

Laxus smiled back at him, and the eye contact was simultaneously gentle and incredibly intense, and Freed found himself enraptured by the sustained honesty in his eyes. Laxus' expression was without falseness, and he seemed entirely at piece.

It was perfect. Perfect.

With almost perfect synchronicity, they both slightly moved their heads forward. As they did, a thrumming ran though Freed, excited, and apprehensive in equal parts.

Slowly, he leant forward and kissed Laxus.

The feeling of Laxus' lips against his own was incredible. Freed tilted his head slightly at the tentative chaste kiss, eyes flickering to Laxus'. The look of wonder in the blonde's expression matched Freed's own, and again simultaneously then leant back into each other and kissed again, moving their lips slowly against one another.

Rain water still dampened Laxus' lips, acting to contrast against how chapped they were, and Freed relished the feeling. Laxus pulled him forward a little more, and the hand Freed held on Laxus' cheek stroked him gently again. The kiss was soft, almost cautious but had an undertone of passion that Freed found himself thrilled by. He leant into it, opening his mouth slightly and smiling as Laxus did the same, deepening their kiss. It was perfect, utterly perfect.

As the music stopped playing, the two men remained, kissing one another as the storm raged around them.

* * *

_**~Three Weeks Later~** _

For the first time in months, Fairy Tail had closed its doors.

It wasn't empty though. A small congregation had formed around one of the tables in the main hall, made up of Fairy Tail's more criminal members. Laxus sat at the head of the table, with Bickslow and Evergreen to his left, and Gajeel and Mirajane to his right, with Freed opposite. The gathered employees all wore serious expressions, listening as Laxus explained the situation to them.

The Justine Family were getting more aggressive now, blatantly so. Staff members had been followed home, threats had been made, and most recently Natsu and Gray had been attacked; though they'd given worse than they'd got. Laxus was done with the situation now.

"Are they that dedicated to getting Freed back?" Mirajane asked once Laxus finished speaking. "No offence meant, but that's quite a lot of effort for one man."

"We think it's more than that," Laxus sighed. "It's an image thing."

"Erik and Sawyer are some of my father's most respected men," Freed explained, the group looking towards him. "So to have them return without me, and with Sawyer having been shot, was something of a humiliation to them. They assumed it would be easy task, underestimated us, and that makes their failure much worse. And given that all a crime family really has is violence and image, being unable to prove either of them was a wound for them. They need to prove themselves by getting revenge on someone here. As well as getting me back simply to prove that they can do it, I suspect."

"So it's an ego thing, then?" Bickslow questioned, leaning on her hand. "Is it really that worth it?"

"If people stop being scared of them, then they stop respecting them," Freed shrugged a little. "If that happens then all the stakes they have in the criminal world begin to crumble. Smaller families and organisations get cocky, and try to overthrow them, and one might succeed. They see this as fighting for their lives, meaning they're dangerous."

"Which also means if we fight back against them, they'll be in more trouble and therefore more reckless," Evergreen concluded, clicking her teeth. "The more we back them in a corner, the more desperate they'll become."

"Indeed," Freed agreed, resignedly.

"We ain't just gonna bend over and let the bastard fuck with us though," Gajeel proclaimed, glaring at the table. "Because we all know they'll get cocky if we don't do anything. We're fucked either way, right?"

"What else can we do?" Bickslow sighed, leaning back in his chair.

They all remained silent, not meeting each other's eyes as they thought through possible responses to the situation. Laxus looked over his gathered employees, and the anger he was feeling at the situation fizzled inside of him. Because, as tempting as it was to just say they'd bring the fight to them, the Justine Family were not ones to be taken lightly. They were murderers and brutally good at it. So as much as Laxus wanted to storm into the family home with a pistol and shoot the fucker between the eyes, it would do no good.

But the people Laxus employed, his family, were getting attacked on the streets. Their privacy was being violated, their safety put into question, and their lives put on hold because of the danger they faced. Laxus couldn't accept that. He couldn't.

"We have to do something," Laxus stated firmly. "Something big, make 'em scared to fuck with us. Can't attack us if they're scared."

"Good," Gajeel agreed. "Take the fight to the fuckers."

"But we're not that kind of place," Mirajane objected. "I know that we can't just sit by and let them keep going, but they're a lot better prepared for this type of thing. We only have a handful of weapons, and only a few people who would be any good at using them. They've probably got a full armoury full of guns and everyone trained in how to use them. If we try anything violent then most likely we'd be slaughtered."

"They're not as impressive as you'd think," Freed offered. "We'd be at a massive disadvantage, yes. But a lot of their power comes from bravado. That's why they're so worried about their image, it's their main asset."

"No, Mira's right," Laxus sighed. "I ain't gonna lead people to slaughter. We can't start a gang war."

Again, nobody knew what else to say. Laxus groaned and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, standing up and pacing slightly to dispel some of the nervous energy that was building. The protective instinct that arose within him for his employees was overpowering, and every day his anger at the situation got worse. When Natsu and Gray had walked in the night before, scuffed up and bruised, Laxus had been near apoplectic. Had the two men not assured him their attackers were left bleeding in the alleyway, Laxus might have stormed form the tavern and towards the house where Freed's father lived to get revenge of his own.

But of course that was the issue. Because he had some sense of self preservation, and if he did confront the man on his own then he'd be shot before he did anything. And if he brought anyone with him, he'd be putting them in the firing line. That also couldn't happen.

"I have something of an idea," Freed said, almost cautiously. Everyone looked towards him. "I know that consorting with the law isn't the most typical thing for a speakeasy to so, but the police have been trying to take my father down for a while. And although it seems like it, they're not immune from prosecution. They're just good at hiding proof of their crimes, and bribing people in the right places."

"So we call the police on them?" Evergreen asked. "If they're as good at dodging them, would that do anything?"

"They might throw it back at us," Bickslow added, looking a little worried. "I mean, one officer here at night as we're all fucked."

"I understand that. Which is why, rather than simply calling the police on them, I believe we should create a dossier of their crimes. Enough irrefutable evidence that, if we were to anonymously hand it to a detective – a non-corrupt one of course – that they would deal with the problem for us," Freed explained, and the group seemed to consider it. "They're good at covering their actions, but not perfect. So long as we dedicate time to it, we can find the cracks in their armour and exploit them to our advantage."

"Could work," Laxus said, considering. "How d'you think we'd find anything from them, though? Not like we have access to anything they're doing."

"Well," Freed said, a little cautiously. Laxus frowned. "It makes sense to have a man inside. Someone seeing first-hand what they're doing, gathering evidence on them."

"Who'd be able to-" Laxus began, but paused. "No."

"It makes the most sense," Freed retorted, seriousness in his voice. "I know how the family works so I can start work immediately, there's already a level of trust with me, and I'd see signs of illegality that you all might miss, given I grew up with it. And him sending people to get me back says he might want me in the family again for whatever reason, so I wouldn't have work my way up like anyone else would. It makes sense"

"What if he wants to bring you back to make an example out of you!" Laxus exclaimed. "What if just wanna beat yer ass and break your knees to show what happens if you break his trust!"

Laxus wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't. Freed's father had sent armed men to get Freed only weeks ago, something that was hardly a piece offering. Over the weeks he'd got more aggressive, and more readily violent, so who knew how he would react if Freed suddenly demanded to be let back into the family. For all Laxus knew he might just shoot Freed on the spot! Laxus couldn't let that happen, he just couldn't. It would be like guiding him into the jaws of the beast. No, it couldn't happen.

"It's the best option, Laxus," Freed said firmly.

"It ain't an option because it ain't gonna happen," Laxus retorted, glaring down at the man.

"He's got a point, Laxus," Evergreen said, and Laxus turned his glare to his employee. "We need to do something, and you even said getting the police involved could work. And Freed's the most logical person to do it."

"Well he ain't doing it," Laxus repeated with a growl. "What if they figure out what you're doin'? They're already pissed off that you're working here, if they find out you're trying to take them down then they'll just fucking shoot you. I ain't gonna let you risk that. We'll figure out another way to do it. We'll, fuck I dunno, we'll…"

"Bend over and let 'em fuck with us until they get bored of the beatings and start shooting?" Gajeel asked, glaring at Laxus with crossed arms. "We all know yer sweet on the guy, but he's his own man and a dangerous one. Stop pussyfooting around on his behalf."

"He's got a point Laxus," Bickslow agreed. "Someone has to do it. Freed's the obvious choice."

"He ain't a choice," Laxus insisted.

"Well it's either we do this, or, as Gajeel said, we allow them to do whatever they want to us," Freed said, firmness in his tone. "They will get arrogant, see us as pushovers and will make an example out of you. And that doesn't just mean there will the violence get worse, which it will, there will also kill the business. Anything to ruin you. You think he's the only one threatened by you? Every speakeasy in the city wants you gone. Your strength protects you, but if you get passive then you're vulnerable. They'll be vandalism, police at your door, threats and attacks from every competitor."

"You're being ridiculous," Laxus snapped.

"And you're being selfish," Freed retorted.

For a note, there was silence.

"My office," Laxus said through gritted teeth. "Now."

With a level of animosity between them both, they walked behind the bar and up the stairs to the office. By the time that Laxus had closed the door, giving them both privacy, Freed had taken a seat opposite Laxus' desk and was looking at him with a determined expression. Laxus didn't back away from it, holding the gaze and taking a seat in his own office chair. They sat in silence for a moment before Freed broke it.

"You won't stop me," He said firmly. "I don't need your permission."

"Well you definitely aren't getting it," Laxus grunted back.

"I don't understand why you're so against me doing it."

"You don't?" Laxus laughed a little, exasperation at the man becoming more obvious. "Your father sends gunmen to get you, he had people attack your colleagues, he sent a threatening note to your house and you don't know why I don't want you going to him? You can't see why that's a fucking stupid idea?"

"I'm aware of the danger, Laxus," Freed said testily.

"Are you? Really? Then maybe you're just stupid," Laxus scoffed. "Even if we forget the risk of him finding out what you're doing, even if he really has had a change of heart and suddenly wants you back for no reason, you still wouldn't be safe. You fucking said yourself that the people who work for him weren't happy to find out you fucked men; they wouldn't have forgotten that. Even if we're real fucking optimistic, you'll still be in danger. Those men are trigger happy and see you as wrong, and you just wanna stroll in and go back to them. Really?"

"I don't care," Freed said, almost defeatedly. "I am doing this no matter what you say, and I think you know that already. It will take a long amount of time and I won't be able to speak to you for months, perhaps. I'd rather not leave on bad terms, so can we talk like adults please."

Laxus went to retort, to say that hell would freeze over before Laxus allowed Freed to do that, but the set in Freed's jaw told him not to; Freed wouldn't listen to him if he acted like this.

"I ain't happy about it," Laxus grunted, quietly.

"I know, and I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it were necessary," Freed assured him, speaking softly. "But Gajeel was right. People like my father won't go away if we remain passive. He'll get worse and people will get hurt. I know that you wouldn't allow that to happen, and this is the best way to stop it from getting to that point."

Laxus was quiet. The bastard was appealing to his protective side.

"I'm scared you'll get hurt," Laxus confessed. "I'm scared that he might just want you back to hurt you, and that you'll end up washed up on the riverbed because I couldn't stop you."

"That won't happen. And I'm not saying that because I trust him, because I don't," Freed said firmly. "I'm saying that because I spent my entire life watching that man, and keeping myself safe. I know how he works, and I can predict what he might do. Before I came to work with you, I was doing that anyway."

"Yeah but what if you can't?" Laxus said weakly. "What if he takes you by surprise?"

"Then we deal with it when it happens," Freed assured him, smiling a little to comfort him. "You can either torture yourself about what might happen to me if things go wrong, or you can torture yourself wondering what'll happen to each of your employees every time they go outside at night. But at least this way, we'll be trying to stop things from getting worse, rather than sitting back and letting it happen."

Laxus hated the situation. And Freed.

He'd never hate Freed.

He wanted to argue more: if he was persuasive enough then maybe Freed would back down and keep himself safe. But of course that only meant that the attacks on his employees would get more violent and dangerous.

It was clear a decision had to be made. Laxus would have to decide if his worry for his employees was more important than his worry for Freed. It was a horrible decision, because his employees were committed people who had dedicated time and effort to him, but Freed was so damned important to him that he couldn't put it into words. He couldn't let Freed get hurt, but he also couldn't let the situation with the Justine's get worse and worse.

Everything was too much. It was nauseating and awful and Laxus felt filled with a rage at the world that he'd never known before. He wanted to scream that this wasn't right, that people like Freed's father shouldn't be able to put people in situations like this, and that he should be killed for what he had done. Laxus would happily give the killing blow.

Caught up in the spirally worry, Laxus hadn't noticed Freed stand up and move beside him until a soft hand cupped his cheek.

"This is not your choice to make. I brought my father to your doorstep and I will deal with it," Freed said softly.

"Promise me you won't get hurt," Laxus whispered, cupping the hand on his cheek.

"No," Freed shook his head slightly. "But what I will promise you is that, once I have dealt with this, and everything is done, I will make sure you never feel like you do right now. And for every moment you feel anxious, every second of sadness that this causes, I promise you a lifetime of adoration from me. And once we are done, and we can be together again, I will show you just how hard it is for me to leave you."

Laxus couldn't say anything, instead taking Freed's hand off his cheek and pressing his lips to the soft, cold skin. He tugged at Freed, pulling him down so that the man sat atop his legs, and brought their lips together.

They kissed, slow and with passion. Yearning and sad, and Laxus wished it wouldn't end. That Freed wouldn't leave him even though he must.

"I need to do this Laxus," Freed whispered after they pulled apart. "But I will come back to you."

"Fucking better," Laxus almost whimpered as he spoke. "If you don't then-"

"I will," Freed assured him. "I will always come back to you."

They pulled each other into another kiss, which was just as sombre and delicate and hesitant as their first of the night had been. Laxus clung to Freed tightly, repeating the man's promise over and over in his head. He had to believe Freed, had to believe he was as good as his word.

But, as they kissed, they both knew the truth. Freed couldn't promise he'd come back, and that thought terrified Laxus.

* * *

_**~Two Days Later~** _

"I wish to see my father," Freed snapped, voice sharp and unflinching. "Now."

Standing at the door to his family estate, face to face with a dim looking member of his father's protection team, didn't stir any emotion from Freed. He had expected a level of anger or nervousness to rise up when he returned to the place he grew up in, and was no longer welcome at, but he felt nothing. Nothing but a simmering determination to achieve his goal as quickly as possible so he could leave, of course.

After the man left to find Freed's father, not before slamming the door in his face, Freed looked at the large building before him. It was lavish, expensive, and decorated with the ostentation fineries of a man who felt above the law and above other's judgement. It was gaudier than he remembered. The building itself seemed almost arrogant, as if sneering down at him.

It was hard to think that, at one point in his life, Freed had attained for a life like this.

After a short while, the door opened again, and the same musclebound idiot returned. He motioned for Freed to come in with a quick jerk of the head, and wordlessly guided Freed through the long corridors of the house. Freed recognised the route; he was being taken to his father's office, though through a purposefully convoluted route. It was an intimidation tactic his father had used, a way to show off how many men were at his command, as well as wrongfooting possible threats by forcing them to trawl around the large house without need. It didn't intimidate Freed, but it did make it clear that he was seen as an outsider.

That was what they'd expected, though. Once Laxus had accepted that Freed would be doing his infiltration plan despite his objections, the criminal members of Fairy Tail took time to assess what might happen, and what they'd need to do. This meeting going well was pivotal, and Freed needed to make it work, so knowing where he stood with his father was more useful than it was intimidating.

When they arrived at the office door, the guard knocked firmly. A moment later, the door opened.

Freed hadn't seen his father in months, and standing in the same room as him felt like a punch to the gut. He tried not to show the emotional winding he experienced, walking in with a confident stride. He stared at his father, unblinking and uncowering.

His father was a reflection of Freed, albeit obviously older. He shared his long green hair, his sharp and unforgiving features, his calculating eyes. Other than the wrinkles that covered his forehead, and the blander clothing the elder man chose to wear, the two men could have been mistaken for one another. Freed had never realised just how similar in appearance he was to his father, and the realisation was a little nauseating.

It wasn't just the two of them in the office. Two of his father's most loyal guards stood behind him, and Freed almost laughed as he saw who was standing to his father's left; the same man that had led to Freed's dismissal from the family. Clearly his father was doing everything to wrongfoot him.

The man wasn't as good looking as Freed remembered.

"Freed," His father said, voice low, gravely and unimpressed.

"Augustus," Freed replied, voice equally hostile.

They had all considered how best to get Freed back into the Justine family, and they had considered getting Freed to grovel for his father's approval. But that was entirely unlike Freed, and would probably raise suspicion rather than appeal to the man's ego. Freed was allowed to be as hostile as he liked, so long as he maintained the agreed upon story.

"You have a lot of confidence to come in here," Augustus growled, voice grating and sharp as he stood up. He slammed his hands on the desk, and Freed didn't flinch. "You come to my door unannounced, knowing you're not welcome, and you don't have the good manners to speak my real title. I should-"

"And what title would that be?" Freed cut him off, and a snarl covered Augustus' face.

"Do not interrupt me, boy," He demanded.

"You only ever called your sons 'boy' if I remember correctly," Freed smirked a little, and the look on his father's face was rather gratifying. Freed had to wonder why he was so scared of the man in the past. "Is that what the past few weeks have been about? Did you want me back?"

"You dare be so insubordinate in my presence," Augustus growled. "I should have you flogged on the damn streets for your arrogance. Perhaps if I'd have done more than when you were a kid then you wouldn't be the way you are."

Freed smirked, put his arms out slightly and looked at his father. "If beating me is what you want, go ahead."

Augustus stormed around the desk he was sitting at, leaving his behind him. He stood in front of Freed – he was smaller than before – with the snarl of a feral dog distorting his features. Without stopping, he raised his hand, so it was in line with Freed's face. The pianist might have flinched half a year ago, but now he regarded his father's hand with a small, uncaring gaze. When he saw his father's eyebrow twitched, he decided to inclined his cheek towards the raised hand, opening inviting the attack.

The slap's crack echoed around the room.

It was a painful thing, because despite his age Augustus was a strong man. He knew how to beat a man and it showed, but Freed simply chuckled, readjusted his jaw slightly and then looked at his father without care.

"Now that you've got that out of your system, shall we talk?"

Freed sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk, not waiting for an invitation he probably wouldn't have ever got. His father, already off-kilter from Freed's lack of reaction to the slap, stared down at his son with the closest thing to a gape he could show. Freed looked up at him, raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and then motioned for Augustus to sit in his own chair. He went to open his mouth, probably to begin some tirade against Freed.

"I wish to be reinstated in my previous position," Freed said before Augustus could begin. "Same level of respect, same finances, and of course the honour of being called your son again."

"You think that I would allow you back?" Augustus snarled. "After you went to the fucking Dreyar's! You betrayed your family."

"I was led to believe that I no longer had a family, it's somewhat a side effect of being disowned," Freed chuckled, and Augustus looked close to exploding. "But yes, I did go to the Dreyar's. I went to your main competitors, I worked for them for six months, and grew to understand what they were doing and how they worked. Information you don't have, but I could tell you."

That made Augustus' anger flicker away for a moment, and he slowly walked back to his chair. Freed had expected this, because the Justine Family was losing power quickly, and needed any advantage they could get. Freed was now offering this advantage to him.

"Why the hell should I listen to you?" Augustus demanded.

"I'm trying to prove a point," Free smiled.

"Which is?"

"Which is that the thing you hate about me is an asset," Freed snapped, anger flicking into his tone now. "That the part of me that you delight in calling a perversion is not only a part of who I am, but is also useful. That the very thing you used to try and humiliate me with, that you threw in my face every damned day of my life, will end up being the bedrock of your new empire."

"And how the fuck will you prove that?" Augustus growled.

"Because it's that so called perversion that got that man under my heel," Freed yelled. "He shared my predilection and I used that to my advantage. I had regular access to his private quarters; his finances, personal correspondence and every damn deal he ever made. And not only that, but I also got to see just how hopeless the idiot was in the world of crime, and he came to me for help. I create every aspect of that man's criminal profile and every weakness I installed is mine to take advantage of, Father. You used to beat me for my desire for men, and you used it to remove me from the life I had always known, and now the only way this family will keep its standing is to take advantage of what my supposed infliction allowed me to do."

It was sickening to say it, but that was the story they had come up with. Freed would be the spurred son, wanting to spitefully prove himself to his father by infiltrating his rival's business and getting information. He would have discovered Laxus' shared like of men, and would have instigated a relationship with him to further gather information.

But the idea of using Laxus like that was nauseating.

Some of the emotion was real though, because for as little Freed cared about the man before him, he was still his father. The same father who had taken the rod to Freed's back time after time, beating him for something he had no power over. Augustus Justine was a sick man, and Freed wished him hell.

"Well well," Augustus chuckled. "Perhaps I taught you well after all."

Freed would take no praise from this man. This morally destitute monster who cared only for how much money he had in the bank and how many thugs he had worshipping the ground he walked on. It was hard to believe that at some point, Freed had thought that was how every man of power would act.

"You say that he's got weaknesses?" August asked, using the voice he used when doing business.

"If you do as I say and reinstate my position in the family, then you'll see just how many weak spots he has," Freed replied, forcing a mean smirk on his face. "Within a year he'll be begging on the streets. Although, I wouldn't mind putting a bullet between his eyes, if I'm honest."

Even saying it sent bile up Freed's throat.

"That's what I like to hear," Augustus laughed. "One year?"

"This time next year, you'll have more power than ever before," Freed promised, smirking confidently. It was a hollow, horrible gesture.

Augustus clapped his hands together twice, standing up again and walking around the desk with a smile on his features. He spread his arms out wide, inviting Freed into a hug as he often did at the end of his business. For a moment, Freed found himself considering attacked the man. Picking up one of the many heavy ornaments decorating the desk and slamming the man across the head with them. Because he deserved it, for what he had done to both Freed and to the workers at Fairy Tail. Making the man bleed, perhaps cover, would be more than gratifying, and it would be so damned easy.

But he couldn't do that. As satisfying as it may be, Freed knew that taking the man down would achieve a lot more than simply attacking him. And so, slowly, almost tentatively, he stood up, walked into the man's arms and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. His skin crawled as he did.

"Welcome back," Augustus proclaimed, laughing as if he hadn't betrayed and attacked his son mere months ago. He kissed both of Freed's cheeks. "My son!"


	4. EQUILIBRIUM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: An argument was settled through an act of humility and a dance between two gentlemen, a plan is made in which Freed placed himself in the crossfire, and the lost son returns to his father's arms with hatred and revenge to fuel him.

**Chapter Four – Equilibrium**

**~Six Months Later~**

When they had agreed on how to deal with the Justine's, Laxus had made a rule for himself. He wouldn't allow himself to be consumed by his fear about what Freed was going through. He wouldn't let every waking minuet be hell as he tortured himself by wondering what awful things might be happening to Freed. No matter what it took, Laxus promised himself that he would get on as normal, keep himself busy and forcing his thoughts to the side whenever they got dark.

But there was an exception to that rule. That came whenever he found himself sitting in the Eisenwald hotel, a front for lots of illegal activity where discretion was expected. Because the only reason for him being at the hotel was when Freed had requested to see him, which always brought a rush of anxiety.

"Come on," Laxus mumbled to himself, hunched over at the hotel room's desk. "Just fucking get here."

A night prior an advertisement for the Eisenwald hotel had arrived at Laxus' door, as was Freed's way of requesting a meeting from Laxus without detection. The advertised room price had been $10 per night, which was how Freed told Laxus that their meeting would take place at ten pm. When Laxus had shown the advertisement to the person at the front desk, he'd been given a key and told which room to wait in.

The first time they'd met like this had been a stark reminder of just how good at being a criminal Freed could be, because he'd managed to organise everything without being detected by his father and family. It was equal parts impressive, humbling, and terrifying.

As Freed entered his thoughts again, nervousness flooded through Laxus. He never knew what Freed would look like when he walked through the door. The first time they'd met, Freed had been healthy and seemed as he always did. But the next time he'd been bloody, bruised and simmering with anger after some of his father's men had attacked him in protest of his reintroduction to the family; he'd only wanted to meet to see Laxus in person again. Laxus didn't know what to expect when Freed arrived, and it racked his nerves.

He just wished he would get there.

Eventually, the door to the room opened, and Laxus reached for the gun attached to his waist on instinct. He stood up, ready to act if any of the Justine Family members had discovered their meetings and wished to take a shot at him. It was possible, and Laxus couldn't be too careful so he kept his finger rested against the trigger.

But it was Freed, and Laxus' heart fluttered at the sight of him.

He seemed like himself. There were no injuries other than the cut on his lip from last time, which both men knew would never fully heal. But he was well dressed, clean and healthy looking, and Laxus couldn't ask for more.

Without speaking, both men walked to one another. Freed kicked the door closed behind him, wrapping his arms around Laxus in a strong hug that Laxus clung onto tightly. To have Freed in his arms again, safe and alive and seemingly without injury was something Laxus hadn't experiences nearly enough, and he would take every opportunity he could to make the most of it.

They remained silent for a short while, relishing one another's presence and the stability that they promised each other. It was these moments where Laxus wished he had fought harder against letting Freed leave and return to his father. Because as much Laxus missed Freed when he wasn't there, he wasn't the one in danger like Freed was; he didn't have to see the worst that the Justine Family had to offer; and he wasn't the one who was looking over his shoulder every day for the last half a year. The strength of Freed's hug showed Laxus just how much he was missed in return, and Laxus hated that Freed ever needed to miss him that much. Freed should never have to miss him because he should always be there for him.

"Are you okay?" Laxus murmured into Freed's neck, voice slightly gravelly.

"Yes, I just needed to see you," Freed spoke quietly, and Laxus felt the vibrations against his collarbones. "You're okay as well, aren't you?"

"I missed you," Laxus confessed, gently running his hand up and down Freed's back just so he could feel the man in his arms. "Was worried about you, but you probably already know that. But I've been fine. You sure you're okay."

"I'm as good as I can be, given the situation," Freed nodded slightly as he spoke, and Laxus knew that was the best he could ask for.

They pulled out of each other's arms, though Laxus immediately cupped Freed's cheeks and kissed him. Freed readily reciprocated, leaning against Laxus and moving his lips with practiced movements. The thrill of kissing Freed still remained, but it now mingled with the incredible sensation of comfort and safety and relief. Despite his absence in his life, Freed had become synonymous with home for Laxus, and Laxus loved kissing him and holding him whenever he could.

He would have loved it if they could just stay like this for the night. To be in each other's arms, share a meal in the privacy of the room, to fall asleep side by side. But he knew that they needed to talk – they always did in these meetings – and the small folder Freed had tossed onto the bed was a reminder of that.

"So," He whispered after pulling apart. "What do you need to talk about?"

"Well, the last two months have been productive," Freed said, walking away from Laxus and towards the folder on the bed. His tone seemed more downtrodden now he was speaking about his family again. "I thought it might be best if you looked after it from now on. Not only does it give you a bigger picture of what we've got against him, it also means there's less evidence of what I've been doing in my rooms, should someone start looking into me."

"You think that people are getting suspicious?" Laxus asked, looking at Freed slightly panicked. "If you're in danger we stop it. I ain't gonna let you go back if you think they're onto you."

"Nobody suspects anything, I just want to keep it that way," Freed said placatingly, and Laxus tried to believe him. When Freed avoided his gaze slightly, Laxus frowned and tipped his chin to force eye contact. "I was thinking that maybe it's getting near the point where I wouldn't have to return."

Laxus' stomach lurched.

"You think we've got enough?" He asked, voice cracking slightly. "If we took it to the police then we might get 'em locked up? And you could come back to me?"

"Perhaps," Freed said, sitting on the bed and taking Laxus with him. He cupped Laxus' hands softly and looked at him seriously. "I don't know if we're ready, I honestly don't. I don't remember everything that I've given you in the past, so I might be overly optimistic about our chances, but I think at the very worst we're nearly there. That's why I wanted to meet you, rather than just having someone deliver it to your door like I did in the past, because I wanted your opinion on whether or not it's time I return."

"Course I'll help," Laxus replied almost automatically.

"I need you to be objective about it, though," Freed demanded softly. "It would be very easy for us both to say that I should come back today, but we need to be realistic. Can you promise me that?"

"I will," Laxus nodded. "Well, I can try my best. But I do want you back with me."

"I want to come back too," Freed agreed quietly.

They rested their heads against each other, closing their eyes and breathing softly. Laxus stroked his fingers across Freed's hand as they sat side by side, knowing that he had do what Freed had said despite every instinct telling him to not let Freed out of his sight. The very fact that they could discuss Freed coming home was better than what Laxus had expected, and Laxus put all his hope into the fact that Freed would be where he belonged sooner rather than later.

Eventually they got to work, looking through the information that Freed had gathered against his family. Even being as objective as he could, Laxus was shocked by just how much evidence Freed had collected.

At the start of Freed's time with his family, he'd only been able to get scraps of information and evidence. Small fragments, the occasional letter, and the odd thing that implicated his father. But as he regained the trust he had once held, and he was allowed more access to the crimes committed, his gathered evidence had gotten more undeniable and had greatly increased in quantity.

This haul of evidence was his largest yet, and Laxus almost couldn't believe how detailed it was. Every important and influential member of the family had full accounts on them, almost enough to have them all put in jail simply based off of that. But Freed also had contracts stating the family's wrongdoings in general, as well as a list of people who might be able to testify his family's guilt. There were also pictures of crimes taking place, letters between Freed's father and known criminals, and even a damn gun with one of Freed's brother's fingerprints on it.

"This is a lot, Freed," Laxus said, placing down the last file on the bed. "This is so much. How did you even manage this?"

"I often used to sneak around my father. Both socially and professionally, my father and I had differences in opinion, so I learned how to avoid him," Freed shrugged. "That, and the fact that they're repulsive people. Ever damn one of them, I can't believe I used to be like that honestly. I've been impatient to leave them, I suppose that helped."

"I'm glad," Laxus shrugged. "Pretty sure you know my stance on getting you out."

"Do you think this is enough?" Freed asked, looking over the spread of information covering the bed. "It does seem substantial. Perhaps I'd convinced myself that we'd never have enough, but looking at it again… maybe it's time."

"Freed, if we give this to the police they'll throw a fucking party," Laxus said seriously. "This is enough. It's more than enough. It's fucking air tight."

"Yes," Freed nodded, then smiled. A tentative smile that lit up his face. "It is, isn't it."

Before Laxus could speak, Freed was on him, kissing him with an energy that he hadn't shown since he'd left to work with his father. Laxus took a moment to catch up with the action, kissing Freed back with the same level of enthusiasm and gusto. As Freed pushed against him, Laxus wrapped his arms around his waist to pull him close. A weight seemed to lift from Laxus' gut, one that he had long since come to terms with.

As they pulled away for breath, Laxus smiled with a look that could only be described as elated. He stroked Freed's face with his thumbs, the delightful feeling of his anxiety leaving flooding throughout him. Because Freed was going to be coming back, he would no longer be forced to deal with murderers and evil men every day.

"Are you coming back tonight?" Laxus asked, and Freed shook his head slightly. Laxus' smile fell. "Why not?"

"We need to be careful about this, Laxus," Freed spoke gently, almost remorsefully. "The police might take time to act, and if I suddenly disappeared they'd get suspicious. That might lead them to you, and I won't allow that."

"So when are you gonna leave?"

"Whenever I can be sure of both your safety and mine," Freed sighed a little, though smiled at Laxus as his expression fell further. "The moment they start arresting people, I will be at your side. And I don't intend to leave it."

It was meant to placate Laxus, but a thought struck him, and panic rose through him again. It was a different kind of fear from what he'd felt when Freed was with his family, but one equally bad. Freed seemed to notice the sudden spike in his anxiety and began holding Laxus' hands firmly, keeping him grounded rather than letting his worries overtake him.

"What if they arrest you?" Laxus suggested. "You've been working with them, they might think you're a part of it. Fuck, if you go to jail you'll be stuck with them-"

"I've thought about that too, Laxus," Freed said calmly, and Laxus looked up from his lap. "I knew it was a risk when I suggested we do this, actually, and I've done something about it," Freed shifted slightly, reaching into his suit-jacket's pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. He handed it to Laxus, smiling a little as Laxus unfolded it. "I didn't tell you about it until now because I knew you wouldn't approve."

Laxus frowned, and looked down at the paper. It was a letter, written in Freed's handwriting, with his obvious signature at the bottom. As Laxus read through the short paragraphs, his hands on the paper clenched tightly. The letter was Freed taking credit for the evidence.

"You said it'd be anonymous," Laxus snapped.

"I did, but it was never going to work that way," Freed admitted quietly, and Laxus glared at him. Had he planned this from the start? Laxus went to speak, but Freed stopped him. "Without me, this is just a pile of paper. They'd say it was falsified or unreliable. Without someone like me to credit it, nothing would happen, and he'd get away with everything."

"What if he finds out?" Laxus growled. "He kicked you out for fucking men. If he finds out you tried to ruin him, he'll fucking torture and kill you."

"I know what he's capable of," Freed snapped back. "But I am not going to let him get away with his shit anymore. He's an abhorrent person and I will make damn sure he rots behind bars, and if risking myself is the way to do that then I will. I will do anything to make sure the remainder of his life is hell, and I am deadly serious about that."

"Freed, he's a murderer! If he even thinks…" A horrible thought occurred to Laxus. "You ain't thinking about testify against him, are you?"

"I have to," Freed retorted.

"You fucking don't!" Laxus yelled. "This is enough. We've got enough!"

"I don't care!" Freed snarled. "That man - that fucking cruel bastard who calls himself a father - made my life fucking hell. He did everything he could to turn me into him, and should I show a hint of individuality I was beaten. Everything about me was wrong to him; so much so that he disowned me for something a better man wouldn't have care about. And even then, he couldn't simply leave me. He had to attack my friends, the people who would show me more care than he could dream of. He hurt the people I love; simply for the fact they offered me a life he denied me! He is a cruel, vindictive, jealous man, and the moment he tried to hurt you I knew I would go to hell and back should it bring him down!"

Freed was panting now, and Laxus wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. He was shivering with anger, and Laxus pressed his lips to the side of Freed's head.

"I will see that man lose everything. His freedom, his safety, his money and his empire. I will make sure he loses every damn part of the life he cares for. I will watch as the colour drains from his face, as the fear blooms in his eyes, as the realisation sets in and his future becomes clear," Freed stopped, panting again. He continued in a whisper. "I will relish every moment of pain I cause him, and I will not do it behind the veil of anonymity. I am owed that."

"Hey," Laxus whispered softly, holding Freed close. "Focus on me. Come on, eyes on me."

Laxus cupped Freed's face, resting their foreheads together and remaining quiet as Freed's breathing slowly became more calmed. Freed was shuddering slightly as the rush of anger subsided, and Laxus wished he could do something to lower the anguish that he was feeling. He could only be there for Freed, and he would do so.

"I understand you're worried about me, and that you don't want me to get hurt," Freed whispered. "But I need to do this."

"I know you do," Laxus conceded.

"And you won't object to it?"

"I won't," Laxus agreed. "But you gotta promise me that you'll come to me if you need me. If he starts acting weird, or you even think for a second that he might have picked up on what's happening, you leave and come to me. No objections, no telling yourself you're being paranoid. If there's even a tiny hint he might know, you come home and stay with me."

"I will," Freed promised, and Laxus believed him.

"When d'you need to go back?" He asked after a moment, stroking Freed's cheeks absently.

"I don't have any assignments tomorrow, so as long as I show my face at the house sometime in the day he won't be suspicious," Freed shrugged after a moment of thought. "So I could sleep here if you'd like. It's not the most hygienic-"

"Stay," Laxus demanded. "Please."

"Of course," Freed nodded slightly. There was a look of hesitance in his eyes, and Laxus frowned. "Could you… can we not… would it be okay if you just held me tonight? Do you mind?"

"Course I don't mind," Laxus assured him.

He carefully removed the papers from the bed, placing them back in the files that they'd been in when Freed first arrived. By the time the dossier of evidence was back to what it had been before, Freed had begun to undress, and Laxus quickly did the same. Sans clothing, they climbed into the crisp, cold sheets of the bed, wrapping their arms around each other. Laxus smiled, slightly sadly, as Freed buried his face in the crook of Laxus' neck, as if looking for protection. It was a show of vulnerability that Laxus expected didn't come easy to Freed.

"You never have to ask me to hold you, y'know," Laxus assured him, voice a whisper. "You told me you'd always love me, you know I feel the same, right? You know that I love you?"

"I do," Freed whispered, pressing his lips against Laxus' collarbone in a kiss.

"I'd marry you, if I could," Laxus confessed, and Freed looked up towards him. "I've thought about it a lot. If there wasn't this bullshit about two men being together, I'd do whatever I could to be your husband."

"You wouldn't have to do much. If you asked me, I'd take you to city hall and get it done now, were it possible," Freed said, smiling a little. "Though, what is a marriage but two people making a promise to love one another for an eternity. I already feel like that to you; I've committed myself to you, Laxus. Wholly and fully."

The words made Laxus swallow, and he almost felt a tear prick in his eye.

He went to speak again, to stumble out a reciprocation that would be nowhere near as eloquent nor romantic as Freed's words had been, but his lover acted before he could. He leant up, and gave a lingering soft kiss to Laxus, that made him feel so damned loved he could barely understand it.

"Just hold me," Freed told him in a whisper. "That's all the response I'll need."

And Laxus let out a quivering breath, pulling Freed closer to him. The small smile on Freed's face told Laxus that he understood just how much Laxus did care for him, and the fact Freed had pre-empted Laxus' struggles with words told him that Freed was truly perfect for him. A few tears did prick at him this time, and as he slowly stroked the other man's hair he knew that no night would be as good as one shared with Freed.

He didn't know how much time had passed, nor if Freed was asleep or not, by the time he looked down to his lover. He gently stroked his cheek, and in a whisper almost inaudible, he spoke again.

"I've committed to you too, Freed," His voice quivered a little. "Every damn part of me."

* * *

**~Three Months Later~**

_**The New York Telegraph** _

_**BREAKING: Justine Crime Syndicate Verdict Given, Family Patriarch Sentenced to Life Imprisonment** _

_By: Jellal Fernandes_

_The legal court battle between the State of New York and accused Justine Family Crime Syndicate has finally come to an end after two months of intense and aggressive campaigning. Yesterday at four thirty-three pm, the jury of twelve came to a unanimous verdict of guilty against the members of the Justine Family and their associates._

_After months' worth of evidence, character witnesses, testimonies and controversies, the infamous court case has come to an end. A spokesperson from the New York County Courthouse today confirmed that charges against Augustus Justine, among others, have been deemed credible, and appropriate sentencing has been doled out, thus brining and end to the criminal trial of the decade, which has captured the interest of the nation._

_Speaking with lead prosecutor, Warrod Sequen, it is the Telegraph's understanding that the charges of mass-murder, grand larceny, criminal damage, arson, bribery and embezzlement (among others) against Augustus Justine have been found guilty. Sequen states that Justine will face multiple life sentences, all of which will be given without bail nor early release due to the seriousness of his crimes. It is suspected that in the days following, when other high-ranking members of the Justine Syndicate are given their own verdicts, similar sentencing will be given. Sequen claims that "today is a victory for justice and for New York," and that "the streets will be significantly safer from now on."_

_Often credited as the bedrock of the prosecution's case was Augustus' own son, Freed Justine. Records state that evidence collected by the younger Justine gave police the justification and standing to arrest the Justine Family's most influential members, and without him it would be likely that no action against them would have been made._

_Also pivotal was Justine's character and witness testimony, where he spoke at length about the "monstrous, inhuman" nature of his father. Those in the courtroom state that Augustus Justine was visibly angry, often interrupted his son's testimony in rage filled tirades, wherein he threatened violence and revenge against his son, and was eventually removed from the courtroom so proceedings could continue. It is also stated that Freed Justine didn't seem affected nor shaken by his father's threats._

_Although the younger Justine has made no public statement, he is quoted in his cross examination as saying, "my reasoning for going against my father is a combination of moral obligation and personal hatred for the man."_

_The court case itself was not without its drama. Most infamously, the hotel where the jury were living during the proceedings was broken into during the night, and it is believed that had hotel staff not immediately called the police, the intruders would have broken into the juror's rooms with the intent to threaten them into giving an innocent verdict. The perpetrators of this crime have been linked back to the Justine Family, and their trials have been scheduled for later this year. It is expected that they will face charges for breaking and entering, intention of grievous bodily harm, and attempting to pervert the course of justice._

_Police proficiency has also been called into question, with many people asking why a criminal organisation as large as the Justine Family's was allowed to continue without prior police intervention. The invasion of the juror's hotel has given further cadence to these criticisms, and Chief of Police Byro Cracey is expected to resign due to mounting pressure._

_The unprecedented nature of the trial makes it difficult to predict the greater effect on society that will now occur. However, in the words of the trial's judge Jura Neekis "A vial monster has been put to trial today, and we expect that many similar men will follow. We pray that the justice given today will offer a modicum of comfort to those who were affected by Augustus' actions. The city of New York is constantly shifting and changing, sometimes for good and sometimes for bad. I have no doubt that today is a good day for us all."_

_**PUBLIC INTEREST: With Rising Cries of Anger, Are Prohibitions Days Numbers?** _

_By: Jason Thompson_

_Throughout its entire existence, controversy has surrounded the law of prohibition. With fiery passion coming from people for and against the laws against alcohol, it has always been a hotbed of discussion and discourse. Many claim the ratification of prohibition was a win for morality, while others believe it's an invasion of civil liberties and an attack on business._

_Recently, the arguments against the law have become louder and more passionate. Not only are decriers saying that the law is unjust, but they also claim it is pointless. In a city like New York, it can't be denied that alcohol is being made and sold. We have all heard the stories of speakeasies and moonshine production. Those speaking against prohibition state that alcohol is more available than ever, and that you just need to know how to find it._

_Having spent the last two years looking into this, I have to concur. Alcohol is everywhere, just hidden out of sight. Should you ask the right people, you'll can be pointed to hundreds of bars doing a roaring trade, simply being less obvious about it._

_Furthermore, rather than making America a more moral and evangelical country, it acts to blur the lines between right and wrong. The people who wish to drink have not stopped, and therefore have taken steps closer to crime. Those who previously would have done trade legally and without consideration for crime are now deeply intrenched in the illegal underworld. Innocent people are now consorting with criminals, all to get a product that five years ago would be readily available._

_Prohibition hasn't worked to make America a better place. It is similar to putting lipstick on a pig; however the pig seems to be allergic to the lipstick and is slowly rotting away into a gangrenous slop._

_Anti-prohibition groups have started to from, and despite what our government is telling us, they are not made solely out of drunkards and wrongdoers. Many of them exist in the elite, including lawyers and doctors, the people you look up to and we are taught to aspire to be._

_With these opinion groups growing larger and louder, how much longer can the rule of prohibition last? In my opinion, the writing is on the wall, and very soon we might be raising a toast without fear of arrest. But until then, we can only wait._

* * *

**~Thirteen Years Later~**

Fairy Tail had worked well as a speakeasy, but it only flourished in lawfulness.

When prohibition had been introduced, Laxus had been forced to relocate into an unused music store, which had been refurbished into a bar. And while it had doubtlessly worked well, and had been successful, it had never been as good as the real Fairy Tail; the one his grandfather had run proudly and with success. That was why Laxus never sold the building, even though it would have lined his pockets with gold, because he hoped that eventually he'd return, and he could run his business like his family always had.

It was an incredible building. Large, located near the city centre, with ostentatious decorations and architecture. The inside had a selection of vast tables, multiple levels, and a stage where live entertainment often occurred. It had always been crowded, and at one point it'd been a tourist spot because of how interlaced with the culture of the city it had been.

And now it was back. Prohibition was no more, and Fairy Tail was back where it was meant to be.

Laxus stood at the top floor balcony, hairs greying slightly and wrinkles begging to settle in. He now had to wear a pair of spectacled that, despite Freed saying they gave him a mature handsomeness, Laxus thought made him look old before his time. His bones ached ever so slightly, but he would be damned if he let body deteriorate even slightly, so his strong form remained. As did his loud sense of style, as shown by the fur-lined coat that he wore like a cape, draped over his shoulders.

He watched the stage from where he stood, where his lover was playing for the enraptured crowd. Freed too was aging, and although the hair dye was hiding the most of it, the frown lines were forming and Laxus took delight in pointing it out. But he was still beautiful. Still the most handsome man Laxus had known.

And he could still play a tune beautifully, and Laxus always loved listening to him.

Once the music subsided, and the crowd of drinkers applauded, Freed walked to the back of the stage. After a few moments he had walked up the staircase to the top level of the bar, standing beside Laxus. The blonde automatically wrapped an arm around Freed's shoulders, pulling him close and enjoying the feeling of the man by his side

"Good show," Laxus complimented, leaning over and pressing his lips against Freed's head.

Many patrons of Fairy Tail knew of their relationship, and they also knew that they shouldn't have any problems if they want to come back. That meant that, while they would never be overly public with their affections for one another, they never felt the need to hide it entirely.

"Thank you," Freed smiled. They remained quiet for a moment, before Freed spoke again with nonchalance. "My father was killed yesterday."

Laxus froze, then looked down to his lover with wide eyes. "Shit."

"Yes," Freed agreed.

"You okay?"

"I think so," Freed said after a short moment's thought. "Rather him than me. It's not like I particularly cared for the man."

"How did you find out?"

"The prison sent me a letter explaining what happened," Freed said, leaning on the banister and looking over Fairy Tail's patrons. "Apparently he was in constant arguments with another inmate, they both saw themselves as heads of the prison I think. Apparently tempers flared, someone managed to sneak in a weapon, and my father was found with his neck cut in his cell. Apparently the public release will be next week."

"You gonna go to the funeral?" Laxus asked, resting his head against Freed's.

"I don't think so. Most of the people there will see me as a traitor who caused his death," Freed chuckled. "Besides, he was dead to me many years ago. I'll hardly grieve, so why would I need to heal from it."

Laxus thoughts for a moment, looking down at Freed's emotionless face. "You sure you're okay?"

"I am," Freed nodded. "It's not as if I lost anyone important to me. I've still got you, and your grandfather and everyone here. That's all the family I've ever had, and I expect it's all I'll ever need."

"If you're sure," Laxus agreed. "I'll get you a drink."

"Thank you," Freed smiled at his lover, pressing his lips against Laxus' softly.

Laxus walked to the private bar that was only accessible to the staff. He picked out two glasses, filled them with their favoured drinks and returned to Freed. He handed the man his port, while taking a sip of his own whiskey as he leant against the man again, looking over the tavern's main hall.

In that moment, they were two kings, looking over their empire with pride. Neither man could think of anything better.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Again, please check out the wonderful _[@FairiesHereFairiesThere](https://fairiesherefairiesthere.tumblr.com/) _ and _[their great artwork.](https://fairiesherefairiesthere.tumblr.com/post/641922103545921536/hello-people-this-is-an-art-piece-for-the) _


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